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THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 
A.ND OTHER POEMS OF ALEXANDER POPE 



f¥lacmillait'0 Rochet ^mEtican anti lEnjglis!) Classics 



ic0» T 



4 Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and > 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 



l6mo. 



Cloth. 



25c. each. 



Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. 

Andersen's Fairy Tales. 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments. 

Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum. 

Browning's Shorter Poems. 

Browning, Mrs., Poems (Selected). 

Burke's Speech on Conciliation. 

Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 

Byron's Shorter Poems. 

Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 

Carlyle's Heroes and Hero Worship. 

Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Won- 
derland (Illustrated). 

Chaucer's Prologue and Knight's Tale. 

Church's The Story of the Iliad. 

Church's The Story of the Odyssey. 

Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. 

Cooper's The Deerslayer. 

Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 

Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 

De Quincey's Confessions of an 
English Opium-Eater. 

Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and The 
Cricket on the Hearth. 

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 

Early American Orations, 1760-1824. 

Edwards' (Jonathan) Sermons. 

Eliot's Silas Marner. 

Epoch-making Papers in U. S. His- 
tory. 

Franklin's Autobiography. 

Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 

Grimm's Fairy Tales. 

Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. 

Hawthorne's The House of the Seven 
Gables. 

Hawthorne's Twice-told Tales (Selec- 
tions from). 

Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 

Homer's Iliad. 

Homer's Odyssey. 

Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 

Irving's The Alhambra. 

Irving's Sketch Book. 

Keary's Heroes of Asgard. ' 



Kingsley's The Heroes. 
Lamb's Essays. 
Lamb's The Essays of Elia. 
Longfellow's Evangeline. 
Longfellow's Miles Standish. 
Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launf; 
Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 
Macaulay's Essay on Hastings. 
Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive. 
Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 
Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rom.e. 
Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnsor 
Milton's Comus and Other Poems 
Milton's Paradise Lost, Bks. I and I! 
Old English Ballads. 
Out of the Northland. 
Palgrave's Golden Treasury. 
Plutarch's Lives (Caesar, Brutus, an 

Mark Antony). 
Foe's Poems. 

Poe's Prose Tales (Selections from). 
Pope's Homer's Iliad. 
Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 
Scott's Ivanhoe. 
Scott's Lady of the Lake. 
Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
Scott's Marmion. 
Scott's Quentin Durward. 
Scott's The Talisman. 
Shakespeare's As You Like It. 
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 
Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. 
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice 
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 
Shelley and Keats: Poems. 
Southern Poets : Selections. 
Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I 
Stevenson's Treasure Island. 
Swift's Gulliver's Travels. 
Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 
Tennyson's The Princess. 
Tennyson's Shorter Poems. 
Woolman's Journal. 
Wordsworth's Shorter Poems. 



OTHERS TO FOLLOW. 




ALEXANDER POPE. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



AND OTHER POEMS OF 
ALEXANDER POPE 



EDITED WITH NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 

BY 

ELIZABETH M. KING 

HEAD OF DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH IN THE LOUISIANA 
INDUSTRIAL INSTITUTE, RUSTON, LOUISIANA 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON : MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd. 
1905 

All rights reserved 



^yf^RY of 


X^WGRESS 


Fwii Oopies 


fiecdivcit! 


:5&ro a 


i906 


S^ Grimes' 

OOP? 3. 



^1- 



—-£>. 



Copyright, 1905, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1905. 



CONTENTS 



NTRODUCTION : 

Life of Alexander Pope 
Pope's Friends 
The Works of Pope 
The Influence of Pope 



E 

vii 
xix 
xxi 

XXV 



HE POEMS SELECTED: 

The Rape of the Lock ...... 1 

An Essay on Man .27 

An Essay on Criticism 70 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot ...... 90 

Address to the Goddess of Dulness, from the 

Dltnciad 108 

The Triumph of Dulness, from the Dunciad . . 112 

Ode for Music on St. Cecilia's Day. . . . 114 
On Sir William Trumbull . . . . . .119 

To Mr. Gay 110 

On Mr. Gay 120 

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady . 120 

Eloisa to Abelard 124 



VI 



CONTENTS 



Messiah . 

Ode on Solitude 

The Dying Christian to his Soul 

On his Grotto at Twickenham 

Universal Prayer 

Windsor Forest 

BIBLIOGRAPHY . 

NOTES . 

INDEX TO NOTES 



PAGI 

13( 
144 
14^ 

146 

146 
149 

163i 

165 

109 



INTRODUCTION 

LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE 

By the beginning of the eighteenth century much had 
been accompHshed by the poets of England: Chaucer 
had portrayed actual life, Spenser had revealed his rich 
imagination, Shakespeare had revelled in the ideal and 
the romantic, and Milton in the religious; but as yet no 
great poet had arisen to express the fashionable and con- 
ventional life which to England was a new phenomenon 
and the direct result of the infusion of French ideas and 
customs into the court of Charles IL It is because Pope 
became the exponent of this phase of English life that 
he became the literary autocrat of his own day, and 
even now occupies an important place in the history of 
English poetry. 

Alexander Pope was one who had to battle against 
adverse circumstances. Born of humble parents, and 
therefore without social position; of Roman Catholic 
faith, and therefore politically ostracized ; with a dwarfed, 
deformed, and sickly body, and therefore excluded from 
the usual vocations of an English gentleman; he yet 
triumphed over all. He became the acknowledged lit- 
erary leader, and lived on terms of equality and friend- 
ship with the most eminent men and the proudest nobility 
of his day. 

His paternal grandfather was a clergyman. His father, 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION 

who laid claims to nothing beyond respectability, was i •3, 
successful linen merchant in London, with considerable' 
literary taste as evidenced b}- the criticisms and advicf^ 
given his son. Pope's mother, Edith Turner, came from 
an old Yorkshire family of exceptional culture. 

The 3' ear 1688 was an important one in the familyv^ 
annals, for on May 21 the son Alexander was born, and 
about the same time the father retired from business and 
settled at Binfield, nine miles from Windsor. This re- 
tirement was no doubt due to the political revolution in 
England which was so fatal to the hopes of the Catholics.. 
It is alleged that the poor gentleman was so distressed 
over the turn affairs had taken, and so conscientious i);i 
his loyalty, that he refused to invest his little fortune in 
any way that might benefit his enemies. He therefore 
put his money into strong boxes and lived upon the prin- 
cipal until very little or nothing was left. The son was 
brought up to honor his father's faith and in later years 
expresses great pride in that father's uprightness and 
strict adherence to principle. 

Pope's father was twice married and had one daughter 
by his first wife, but Alexander was the only child of the 
second marriage. He was a sweet-tempered child, and 
the idol of the household. From the beauty of his voice 
he was called ''the little nightingale"; and as he was a 
sickly, precocious infant, we may well imagine that he 
was not a little spoiled by his elderly parents, both of 
whom were forty-six 3^ears of age at his birth. 

The famih^ had moved to Binfield that they might 
have the association of a number of Catholic families 
who lived in that neighborhood, but even here to be a 
Catholic meant to be debarred from public schools and 



LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE ix 

afniversity. In consequence of this, the child was placed 
' Viccessively under the charge of three or four Roman 
priests from whom he learned the rudiments of Greek 
and Latin. During this time we learn that he left one 
school because he had received a flogging for satirising 
the master, and that when he was ten years of age, he 
built a tragedy based on a translation of the Iliad, and 
that at twelve he read Latin fluently. His scholarship 
was never accurate, and he later congratulated himself 
that he had learned to read the classics for the sense, not 
the words. In respect to scholarship, however, he was 
not behind his age; for Addison, who spent many years 
at the university, had no intimate acquaintance with 
either Greek or Latin authors. And yet academic train- 
ing would, no doubt, have been an excellent thing for 
Pope, as he needed the discipline of such a tyranny in 
thought, though it is doubtful if such a mind as his would 
have submitted itself readily to rigid processes. 

At the age of twelve, he outlined a course of study for 
himself, and plunged into it so enthusiastically that he 
brought on a severe illness. His scheme included the 
reading of philosophy, theology, history, poetry, and 
criticism. His greatest delight was evidently in the last 
two, and he made himself familiar with the greatest 
writers, both ancient and modern, using translations 
wherever they were easiest. 

At an early age he began to feel that all other avenues 
were closed to him, so both by nature and determination, 
he turned to poetry for his life work. His precocity at 
rhyme was remarkable. He says : — 

" As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 
I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." 



X INTRODVCTION 

\ 
His father encouraged him in these early attempts^ 

assigned him subjects, suggested revisions, and finally 

admitted, ''These are good rhymes." It was no doubt 

due to his advice that Pope served a long apprenticeship 

in poetry, and when the verse of a foreign author pleased 

him, turned it into English, working it over and over until 

satisfied with the results. By the time he was fifteen he 

had imitated most of the ancient and modern poets. 

He did this, he says, "not in vanity, but in humility. I 

saw," he continues, "how defective my own things were 

and endeavored to mend my manner by copying good 

strokes from others." 

Though but twelve years of age when Dry den died, he 
had already fixed his admiration upon him, and once 
persuaded his friends to take him to the coffee-house fre- 
quented by that poet that he might catch a glimpse of 
him. The influence of Dryden, his master, is very per- 
ceptible in all his work, but perhaps the greatest influence 
over his early life was that of Sir William Trumbull. 
This aged statesman, after an active and eventful life, 
had retired to the neighborhood of Binfield to live the 
quiet life of a country gentleman. Pleased with his 
young friend's precocity, he made much of the boy, 
rode with him, and discussed the poets, and finally sug- 
gested the translation of the Iliad. Many of the ideas 
expressed in the Essay on Criticism are attributed to 
this gentleman. 

Another friend who gave advice that Pope evidently 
made good use of was William Walsh, a gentleman of 
fortune and a scholar who had considerable reputation 
as a critic and a poet. It was he who advised Pope to 
make " correctness" his study and aim. By such friends 



LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE XI 

as these The Pastorals were first read and approved, and 
through Walsh, Pope was first introduced to Wycherly, 
and the hterary clubs of London, to Steele, Addison, and 
Swift. It was at the invitation of Steele that he wrote 
the Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, and it was Steele who got 
the Messiah published in the Spectator and other 
poems and papers in the Guardian. 

But London life with its late hours and constant dis- 
sipation was little suited to the dwarfed and sickly young 
n m, and before long he returned to the country where 
his weak constitution unfitted him for the hard riding 
and heavy drinking of the country gentlemen around 
Binfield. At the age of seventeen he had given up all 
hope of life, and wrote farewell verses to his friends, one 
of whom, Abbe Southcote, interested a famous London 
specialist in his case. The latter advised him to diet, 
give up study, and take more exercise. He did so, and 
in a measure recovered. Yet he was never strong, fre- 
quently suffered from severe headaches, and declared 
that he was never free from pain. It was only by taking 
the most excellent care of himself that he was able to 
live at all. He went through life padded and braced 
with stays, petted and nursed and deferred to by w^omen, 
and in a large measure dependent on them for society 
and companionship. 

In 1711 was published the Essay on Criticism, which 
had been written two years earlier, but which Pope, in 
accordance with his custom, had kept by him in order 
to revise and polish it. In 1712 The Rape of the Lock 
appeared, and in the year following Pope undertook the 
translation of the Iliad. 

The publication of this last-named work marks an 



xii INTRODUCTION 

epoch in the history of EngUsh hterature. Pope for(^, - 
saw the end of hterary patronage and he therefore de- 
termined to issue the work by subscription. His friendlt^; 
especially Swift, assisted him, and before it was outp^' 
Ushed a full list of subscribers had been secured for a folic ^ 
edition in six volumes at a guinea apiece. Later he '^oli^ 
the copyright on this work at a good price, and ga' >6- 
all together by this work £5320, the largest sum ever n. ^^ s. 
up to that time on any one literary production. By *'I 
translation of the Odyssey Pope made about £3500 mc^re 
and though the payments on these were spread ove "^d 
period of eleven years, yet he saved enough to be co ii> 
fortable for the rest of his days. 

In 1716 Pope had induced his parents to remove to 
Mauson's New Buildings on the bank of the river at 
Chiswick. Two years later, after the death of his fathe 
he gave up these unaristocratic holdings and secured th 
proprietorship of Twickenham on the Thames, a much 
more desirable home. This place was on the edge of 
London, and near to Hampton and Richmond, so that 
Pope, while not in the midst of the gay world, might be 
close enough to it to be in contact with his friends who 
were, and as near as his poor weak body permitted him 
to be. Here the poet lived for the next twenty-five 
years, and here he died. Perhaps no scenes of his life 
present greater felicity than those of his gardening on 
this estate. The little park and gardens embracing only 
five acres were divided by a public thoroughfare, and 
Pope connected the two parts by a grotto, an under- 
ground passageway which he took the greatest delight 
in arranging and decorating with rocks and shells and 
mirrors so arranged that they showed what was passing 



LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE xiii 

on the road and on tlie river be3^ond. Here the poet 
entertained his friends, the highest nobles and the chief 
hterary men of his time, and here he retired from the 
noise of the world. His gardens he also laid out with 
great taste, being naturally a landscape artist, and he 
skilfully made them to appear several times larger than 
i' ' really were by leaving dense borders of seemingly 
enetrable forests on all sides, and arranging walks 
sij^ vistas ending with obelisks and shrubbery. These 
lA iens and lawns have since been built over, and the 
hi is cut down, but the Prince of Wales's garden is still 
? -arge measure a copy of it made with Pope's consent, 
ij-jre, too, the poet took great pleasure in river rides, 
and kept not only a luxurious boat, but a riverman who 
was a regular member of his household. 

Up the river also to the boat landing at Twickenham, 
ame Gay, who sometimes spent weeks under Pope's 
roof. Swift, who remained months at a time, Bolingbroke, 
Peterborough, Swift, and the Prince of Wales. Here in 
these gardens and lawns Pope found the recreation and 
variety which he could not gain by foreign travel and 
long visits, since for many years his mother's health did 
not permit him to leave her side; here he produced his 
most characteristic work ; and here he spent his last dayS; 
surrounded by a few faithful friends. 

As soon as the Odyssey was finished, he proceeded to 
punish those of his enemies and critics who had pre- 
lim 
bef( 
nan 



lea to attack his previous writings. Some years 
)re. Swift had advised him not to immortalize the 
les of his detractors by recognizing them and em- 
j^^^iiying them in his verses, and Pope had cheerfully 
nted. Now he submitted a scheme of the Dunciad 



ass( 



XIV — INTRODUCTION .,| 

to Swift who' just as warmly urged him to take up the 
work, and Pope just as warmly accepted the advice.-^ 
Th^ result was that in 1728 appeared the Dunciad, the 
most elaborate satire in our language. Though he 
claiined that his object was doing good by the exposing^" 
of the ignorant and pretentious authors, yet from what 
we, know, of his character, there is little doubt that'he 
was animated in no small measure by personal ill-feeling. 
Theobald, who had far surpassed him as an editor 
of Shakespeare, was elevated to the throne of Dul- 
ness, though later he was deposed to make room for 
Gibber, with whom Pope had a more recent quarrel, and 
who was certainly little deserving of that " bad eminence." 
The w^ork as a whole is dull reading, though it occa- 
sionally rises to the height of true poetry, as notably in 
the last lines, w^hich have been most lavishly praised by 
Thackeray and other careful critics. On the day it was. 
first offered for sale a crowd of authors besieged the 
shop trying to hinder its publication, and another 
crowed of booksellers and hawkers demanding it. The 
satire had its immediate effect, and one poor poet 
declared he was in danger of starving, as the publishers 
were now no longer willing to accept his work. In 
order to protect himself from prosecution for libel. 
Pope had taken "The precaution to have the first edition 
sold under the auspices of certain pow^erful noblemen; 
but even then, it is said that his victims determined to 
punish him, and that more than one only awaiteCvi^'^^ 
favorable opportunity to attack him. His friends l^^^e- 
vailed on him to exercise great care when he went abroil^^^ 
and he never aupeared without his great mastiff Bouiiv^^g 
and ^jjupgiil^istols. ir 



LIFE OF Alexander} po^E^ xv 

The Dunciad marks a turning point in his career as a 
poet^ for thereafter his poetry has a philosophical cast. 
In 1/73 appeared what has Keen called his noblest wqj:& 
the Essay on Mayi. When his orthodoxy was attacked 
because of his theories in this Essay, Pope was deeply 
distressed and gladly accepted the championship of 
VVarburton. And yet we may doubt if he knew or deeply 
understood the #end of just what he had said or sug- 
gested in this work/ It seems to have been rather a 
poetic expression of a collection of views of life and re- 
gion as sej^riby his familiar friends. Much of it may 
'e traced-to Bolingbroke, who though a deist took good 
are not'to let it appear so to Pope, and whose philosophy ,. 
; evident under this thin mask of verse. However weak^' 
.e may have been as a philosopher, Pope cannot but 
istonishus by his marvellous skill at expression in^this 
poem. Few persons may know the whole, but these 
and other lines have passed into common speech, — 
the best possible evidenjje of ix)wer of expression : — 

" Lo, the pooy. Indian ! whose untutored ^ind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears Him in the wind.'' 

" All a^e but parts of one stupendous, whole." 

" Order is Heaven's first law." 

" F xior and shame from no condition rise : / 

Act well your part; there all the honor lies." 

" Worth makes the man and want of it the fellow • 
The rest is all but leather and prunella. " ^ 

" And all our knowledge is ourselves to\now." 



y 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

Pope's latter years were employed with the Imita- 
tions and Satires and with controversies over his corre- 
spondence, which he manoeuvred to have published 
supposedly through the indiscretion of Swift and without 
his consent. Later biographers who have striven to 
unravel the tangled skein leave us little choice but to 
believe that Pope did descend to very doubtful means 
in this matter, that he did alter dates, prune the sub- 
stance, and otherwise materially change his letters before 
sending them to the publishers, and that he misrepre- 
sented his correspondents in certain cases. We are, 
moreover, not at all assured that these alterations and 
equivocations have in any way or measure added to his 
fame as a man of letters ; for his correspondence lacks the 
clearness and directness of most of his verse, and is devoid 
of the naturalness which must ever be the charm of the 
letter-writer. 

Pope's health had never been robust, and it was said 
that he was never free from physical suffering, but his 
latter years were more than ever painful. At the last 
his delirium caused him the greatest distress, and on 
recovering from it only shortly before his death, he was 
most solicitous to know whether he had during his ill- 
ness unconsciously offended or embarrassed any of his 
friends, saying that ''the loss of rationality was sufficient 
humiliation for the vanity of any man." 

Sensitive as he was, and spiteful as he might become to 
his enemies, he had one of the tenderest hearts for his 
particular friends, and a most friendly feeling for man- 
kind in general. While his contemporaries condemned 
him for his parsimony in refusing to drink and gamble 
with them, and his closely driven bargains with his clerks 



LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE xvii 

and publishers, he was giving away in known charities 
one-eighth of his annual income of £800 in addition to 
what he gave to relieve occasional needs. His liberality 
with his servants and those in the homes of the friends 
whom he visited was notable. The old servant who was 
called up four times in a winter night to bring paper and 
pens lest Mr. Pope might lose a valuable thought or 
couplet averred that she gladly served him, and that she 
needed no wages in a family where Mr. Pope was a visitor. 
A friend tells of his coming in exhausted on a sultry sum- 
mer day, after having walked three miles because he had 
loaned his carriage to a lady who had had some accident 
to her own. 

That Pope became the earliest man of letters pure and 
simple was due both to choice and to necessity. To him 
poetry was its own reward, and with no advantage of 
birth or fortune he rose to a position of equality with the 
highest in the land, and all this without sacrificing his 
self-respect or independence. His was a triumph of 
sheer intellect over external disadvantages. That he 
lived in ease and comfort while Dryden died in poverty 
is due in no small measure to the fact that he took 
the world, even his contemporaries, into his confidence. 
Few men have lived whose lives have been so thoroughly 
known to the world and over whose conduct and char- 
acter there has been more discussion. 

After a careful and sympathetic reading of his biog- 
raphy, his correspondence, and his works, one can but 
find him full of contradictions, — a man to be admired 
and pitied. In dress he was elegant and fastidious; in 
manner courtly. With his servants he was punctilious 
and troublesome ; with his friends often lacking in frank- 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

Pope's latter years were employed with the Imita- 
tions and Satires and with controversies over his corre- 
spondence, which he manoeuvred to have published 
supposedly through the indiscretion of Swift and without 
his consent. Later biographers who have striven to 
unravel the tangled skein leave us little choice but to 
believe that Pope did descend to very doubtful means 
in this matter, that he did alter dates, prune the sub- 
stance, and otherwise materially change his letters before 
sending them to the publishers, and that he misrepre- 
sented his correspondents in certain cases. We are, 
moreover, not at all assured that these alterations and 
equivocations have in any way or measure added to his 
fame as a man of letters ; for his correspondence lacks the 
clearness and directness of most of his verse, and is devoid 
of the naturalness which must ever be the charm of the 
letter-writer. 

Pope's health had never been robust, and it was said 
that he was never free from physical suffering, but his 
latter years were more than ever painful. At the last 
his delirium caused him the greatest distress, and on 
recovering from it only shortly before his death, he was 
most solicitous to know whether he had during his ill- 
ness unconsciously offended or embarrassed any of his 
friends, saying that '' the loss of rationality was sufficient 
humiliation for the vanity of any man." 

Sensitive as he was, and spiteful as he might become to 
his enemies, he had one of the tenderest hearts for his 
particular friends, and a most friendly feeling for man- 
kind in general. While his contemporaries condemned 
him for his parsimony in refusing to drink and gamble 
with them, and his closely driven bargains with his clerks 



LIFE OF ALEXANDER POPE xvii 

and publishers, he was giving away in known charities 
one-eighth of his annual income of £800 in addition to 
what he gave to relieve occasional needs. His liberality 
with his servants and those in the homes of the friends 
whom he visited was notable. The old servant who was 
called up four times in a winter night to bring paper and 
pens lest Mr. Pope might lose a valuable thought or 
couplet averred that she gladly served him, and that she 
needed no wages in a family where Mr. Pope was a visitor. 
A friend tells of his coming in exhausted on a sultry sum- 
mer day, after having walked three miles because he had 
loaned his carriage to a lady who had had some accident 
to her own. 

That Pope became the earliest man of letters pure and 
simple was due both to choice and to necessity. To him 
poetry was its own reward, and with no advantage of 
birth or fortune he rose to a position of equality with the 
highest in the land, and all this without sacrificing his 
self-respect or independence. His was a triumph of 
sheer intellect over external disadvantages. That he 
lived in ease and comfort while Dryden died in poverty 
•is due in no small measure to the fact that he took 
the world, even his contemporaries, into his confidence. 
Few men have lived whose lives have been so thoroughly 
known to the world and over whose conduct and cliar- 
acter there has been more discussion. 

After a careful and sympathetic reading of his biog- 
raphy, his correspondence, and his works, one can but 
find him full of contradictions, — a man to be admired 
and pitied. In dress he was elegant and fastidious; in 
manner courtly. With his servants he was punctilious 
and troublesome ; with his friends often lacking in frafik- 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

ness, as was seen in his artifices with his correspondence, 
but as a Cathohc in the reign of WilUam and Mary he was ^ 
brought up in an atmosphere of intrigue. Affecting to 
disregard fame, yet he courted it; while posing as supe- 
rior to any regard for rank, he prided himself upon his 
acquaintance with men of high social station ; appar- 
ently indifferent to poetry, he made it his real profes- 
sion, and was never without a poetic scheme in his head; 
while pretending to be careless of his enemies and in- 
sensible to censure, he was most impatient of attack and 
writhed under criticism. 

Yet he never sold himself to the highest bidder, he 
kept his independence, he never flattered for selfish ends. 
He refused to dedicate his Iliad to Lord Halifax, though 
it might have been greatly to his advantage to do so, 
and he rejected the pension which Craggs offered him 
out of the Secret Service Fund. His failure, so far as it 
was such, was rather because he neglected to look for 
the great eternal truths and saw^ too much of the petty 
and trivial, and allowed his life to be rendered less happy 
on that account. When the South Sea bubble broke and , 
he lost the shares presented to him by Craggs and Sir J 
Francis Childs, together with some purchased by himself, 
he congratulated himself that he had not sold his shares 
and enriched himself at the expense of others. Living 
in an age of coarseness, his morality is unimpeached. 
Governed ever by reason and common sense, he 3^et paid 
abuse in kind. He was a pious and devoted son, who 
cherished his mother and sacrificed much for her com- 
fort and happiness. He retained his friends to the last. 
He wished ever to be thought good rather than great, 
a hater of vice because a lover of virtue. 



pope's friends xix 



POPE'S FRIENDS 

Pope was from the first singularly fortunate in making 
friends who could and would aid him in his chosen pro- 
fession. The relations between him and Sir William 
Trumbull, Bolingbroke, Arbuthnot, Gay, and Swift have 
already been referred to, but in other cases he was less 
happy in his friendships. 

The aged Wycherly, to whom he was introduced by 
Walsh, asked him to correct his poems. Pope did so 
conscientiously, and advised that they be turned into 
prose. This so incensed the elder poet that he never 
forgave his youthful friend, though Pope retained a 
friendly feeling for him and visited him on his deathbed. 

Addison, who might have been his best friend, was 
early estranged from him. First, Addison had the mis- 
fortune to advise him not to modify The Rape of the Lock, 
after its first publication, by adding the machinery of 
the sylphs. Pope pursued his intention contrary to 
this advice; and as it proved a very happy alteration, he 
saw, or what was equally disastrous to their friendship, 
thought he saw, that Addison had been jealous and selfish 
of that success. Though a truce was patched up, it was 
broken again when Pope asked Addison to read the first 
book of the translation of Homer's Iliad, and Addison 
replied that he was unable to do so, having already per- 
formed that office for his friend Tickell who was also en- 
gaged on a translation of the same work, but that he 
would gladly read the second book. Pope immediately 
took this as a personal affront, and his bitterness toward 



XX INTRODUCTION 

Addison was unconcealed from that moment, though 
several times friends tried to reconcile the two. 

Warburton, who came to his defence when his ortho- 
doxy was attacked on account of the Essay on Man, 
remained his steadfast, though sometimes his indiscreet, 
friend. In his latter years Pope was left almost alone, 
through the death of his mother, of Gay, and of Arbuth- 
not, and through Swift's infirmities. Thus he was de- 
pendent on Warburton and Bolingbroke who had alwa^'s 
been intimate, and yet who had never been truly the 
friends of his heart. 

In his relations with women, also. Pope was unhappy. 
Apparently few came into his life, but among that few 
Lady Mary Montagu was the most brilliant as well as 
the one who treated him most cruelly. Pope was unac- 
customed to society, and was dazzled by her beauty 
and accomplishments. He, in turn, attracted her by 
his wit and his fame, and they became friends. When 
she accompanied her husband, Mr. Montagu, who went 
as ambassador to Constantinople, she corresponded with 
Pope, and to her he sent a copy of Eloisa to Abelard with 
the insinuation that the last lines referred to his feelings 
toward her. On her return to England Lady Mary went 
to reside at Twickenham and became his neighbor. 
Here she rebuffed his attentions and cruelly laughed at 
him. Ever after they were implacable enemies and in- 
dulged in a most undignified controversy, in the carrying 
on of which Lady Mary was assisted by some of Pope's 
most bitter enemies. 

His relations with Teresa and Martha Blount was little 
less fortunate. He had been an intimate friend of the 
sisters from his early days, and had kept up a corre- 



THE WORKS OF POPE XXI 

spondence with them in which he made gay attempts to 
treat them equahy. The letters show, nevertheless, that 
while his highest compliments appear to be bestowed 
upon the elder sister Teresa, his real affection was for 
I^Iartha or Patty. There is no doubt that Pope would 
have liked to marry the latter, but for many years was 
restrained from pressing his suit by the fact of his de- 
formity. \Mien he did suggest the alliance to the elder 
sister/ she rejected the proposition for Martha and in 
such scornful terms that Pope could not in honor con- 
tinue his suit. Deeply hurt as he was, he settled a 
pension on Miss Teresa"! the family then being in need of 
financial aid, and left the bulk of his property, not in- 
cluding his works, to IMartha. As time went on the 
friendship between him and the latter was resumed, and 
in the last years of his life, he grew to depend much upon 
her for sympathy and companionship. Though his most 
affectionate verses were on his mother, yet some of his 
best and tenderest were inspired by blue-eyed Patty 
Blount. Though on the whole Pope appeared to have 
little respect for women, yet to him these two were ideals 
of womanliness, and he has paid them both many high 
tributes. 

THE WORKS OF POPE 

The rhymed couplet was the most common poetic 
measure of the '^ classic age" of Dryden and Pope. It 
is evidence of the reaction from the license and extrava- 
gance of verse of the later Elizabethan days, and as 
characteristic of the correct manner of poetry of that 
day as the earlier meters were of the romantic period. 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

It marks a step in the evolution of literary style which 
ranges from the sincerity of Shakespeare, through the 
violent effort at verse and the strained plots and language 
of his successors, to the restraint of lawlessness in the 
Queen Anne period. Edmund Waller and George Sandys 
had begun, Dryden had carried on, and to Pope was left 
the task of completing the work of polishing and perfect- 
ing this form of verse. And it was a labor for which he 
was well fitted both by nature and inclination. A man 
w^ho either possessed no violent emotions or had so re- 
strained them that they were his humble servants was 
the very one to bring conventionality to its high-water 
mark. He was willing to sacrifice everything else fo 
his bright glancing couplet with its brilliancy of sound 
and varied diction. His poetry is without doubt arti- 
ficial and rhetorical, but it is as perfect a representation 
of the age as the glowing fancy and rich imagery of Spen- 
ser is of the earlier Elizabethan period. It is too regular 
and too conscious a form to be generally used. Neither 
prose nor poetry can long be confined in so narrow limits 
as the rules of " classic " poetry, and hence we find a re- 
version to romanticism beginning with Gray and Cowper 
and continuing to the twentieth century through a suc- 
cession of Burns. Wordsworth. Longfellow, and Lanier. 

The early poems of Pope are unreal and artificial, 
conventional and affected, but such was the fashion of 
the age. The poets of the day prided themselves on 
their simplicity, but their swains and shepherdesses are 
the merest affectations, their chronology the most faulty. 
Even Pope, who remembered that there were in his day 
no wolves and bears in the neighborhood of London, yet 
had a milk-white bull brought before the altar to be slain. 



THE INFLUEXCE OF POPE xxvii 

day of his death, friends and admirers paid him the 
highest homage, even flatter}' and adulation. The re- 
action which afterward set in against him was as unjusti- 
fied and undue as the exaggeration of the first estimate 
of his work. No writer remains a classic to successive 
generations of readers without having substantial merits 
and claims to the position, and Pope has such. In dic- 
tion, and in technical skill, and in the power to make his 
manner correspond to the matter, he is still unsurpassed 
and but rarely equalled; in the use of the antithesis 
unrivalled; in defcription and rhetorical device of un- 
questioned ability. To many he will ever be unsatis- 
fying because of his lack of the romantic and spiritual 
elements, but for others he will ever be an unfailing well 
of enjoyment, and will always be sure of a high place, 
though it is hardly possible that he will ever regain the 
place he held in the eighteenth century. 

His work is fragmentary and, except The Rape of the 
Lock, of disjointed members; but tliis is of less impor- 
tance because we are most pleased with the details. His 
verses are like mosaics of exquisite workmanship. The 
exactness and propriety of phrase will ever charm though 
we may regret the lack of spirituality, of romance, and 
of mystery; and Pope, the poet of society, will ever hold 
the first place in the rank of the secondary poets of the 
world. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK° 

AN HEPvOI-COMICAL POEM 

(1712) 

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos ; 
Sed juvati hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis. 

Mart. Epig. xii. 84. 

CANTO I 

What° dire offence from am'rous causes springs, 

What mighty contests rise from trivial things, 

I sing — This verse to Caryll° muse ! is due: 

This, ev'n Behnda° may vouchsafe to view: 

Shght is the subject, but not so the praise, 5 

If she inspire, and he approve my lays. 

Say what strange motive, Goddess ! could compel 
A well-bred Lord° t' assault a gentle Belle ? 
O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd, 
Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord ? ' lo 

In tasks so bold can little men engage. 
And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage ? 

Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray. 
And oped those eyes that must eclipse the day. 
Now lapdogs give themselves the rousing shake, 15 

And sleepless lovers just at twelve awake: 
Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground, 



2 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound. 

Behnda still her downy pillow prest, 
20 Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest. 

'Twas he had summon 'd to her silent bed 

The morning-dream that hover'd o'er her head; 

A youth more glitt'ring than a Birthnight Beau° 

(That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to glow) 
25 Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay, 

And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say: 
' Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care 

Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air ! 

If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought, 
30 Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught — 

Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen, 

The silver token, ° and the circled green,° 

Or virgins visited by Angel-powers, 

With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flowers 
35 Hear and believe ! thy own importance know, 

Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. 

Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal'd, 

To maids alone and children are reveal'd : 

What tho' no credit doubting Wits may give ? 
40 The fair and innocent shall still believe. 

Know, then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly, 

The light militia of the lower sky : 

These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing, 

Hang o'er the Box,° and hover round the Ring.° 
45 Think what an equipage thou hast in air, 

And view with scorn two pages and a chair. 

As now your own, our beings were of old, 

And once inclosed in woman's beauteous mould; 

Thence, by a soft transition, we repair 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 3 

From earthly vehicles to these of air. 50 

Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, 

That all her vanities at once are dead; 

Succeeding vanities she still regards, 

And, tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. 

Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, 55 

And love of Ombre, after death survive. 

For when the Fair in all their pride expire. 

To their first elements their souls retire. 

The sprites of fiery termagants in flame „ 

Mount up, and take a Salamander's name. ' 60 

Soft yielding minds to water glide away. 

And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental tea. 

The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome 

In search of mischief still on earth to roafn. 

The light coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair, 65 

And sport and flutter in the fields of air. 

' Know further yet : whoever fair and chaste 
Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embraced; 
For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease 
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please. 70 

What guards the purity of melting maids. 
In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades, 
Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark, 
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark; 
When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, 75 

When music softens, and when dancing fires ? 
'Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials know, 
Tho' Honour is the word with men below. 

'Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face. 
For life predestin'd to the Gnome's embrace. 80 

These swell their prospects and exalt their pride, 



4 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

When offers are disdain'd, and love denied: 

Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain, 

While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train, 
85 And garters, stars, and coronets appear, ° 

And in soft sounds, ''Your Grace" salutes their ear. 

'Tis these that early taint the female soul. 

Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll, 

Teach infant cheeks a bidden blush to know, 
90 And little hearts to flutter at a Beau. 

' Oft, when the world imagine women stray, 

The Sylphs thro' mystic mazes guide their w^ay; 

Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue. 

And old impertinence expel by new. 
95 What tender maid but must a victim fall 

To one man's tr'eat, but for another's ball? 

When Florio speaks, w^hat virgin could withstand, 

If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand ? 

With varying vanities, from every part, 
100 They shift the moving toyshop of their heart ; 

Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots 
strive. 

Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive. 

This erring mortals levity may call ; 

Oh blind to truth ! the Sylphs contrive it all. 
105 'Of these am I, who thy protection claim, 

A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name. 

Late, as I ranged the cr3^stal wilds of air, 

In the clear mirror of thv ruling star 

I saw, alas ! some dread event impend, 
no Ere to the main this morning sun descend, \ 

But Heav'n reveals not what, or how or where. 

Warn'd by the Sylph, O pious maid, beware ! 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 5 

This to disclose is all thy guardian can : 
Beware of all, but most beware of Man !' 

He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long, 115 
Leap'd up, and waked his mistress with his tongue. 
'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true, 
Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux; 
Wounds, charms, and ardours were no sooner read, 
But all the vision vanish 'd from thy head. 120 

And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd. 
Each silver vase in mystic order laid. 
First, robed in w^hite, the nymph intent adores, 
With head uncover'd, the cosmetic powers. 
A heav'nly image in the glass appears; 125 

To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears. 
Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side. 
Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride. 
Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here 
The various offerings of the world appear; 130 

From each she nicely culls with curious toil, 
And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring spoil. 
This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, 
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. 
The tortoise here and elephant° unite, 135 

Transform'd to combs, the speckled, and the white. 
Here files of pins extend their shining rows, 
Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. 
Now awful beauty puts on all its arms ; 
The Fair each moment rises in her charms, 140 

Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, 
And calls forth all the wonders of her face; 
Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, 
And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. 



6 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

145 The busy Sylphs surround their darhng care, 
These set the head, and those divide the hair, 
Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown; 
And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own. 



CANTO II 

Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, 
The sun first rises o'er the purpled main. 
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams 
Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames. 

5 Fair nymphs, and well-dress'd youths around her shone. 
But every eye was fixed on her alone. / 

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, 
Which Jews might kiss,° and infidels adore. 
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, 

10 Quick as her eyes, and as unfix 'd as those: 
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; 
Oft she rejects, but never once offends. 
Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, 
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. 

15 Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride. 
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide; 
If to her share some female errors fall. 
Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all. 
This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, 

20 Nourish 'd two locks, which graceful hung behind 
In equal curls, and well conspired to deck 
With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck. 
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains, 
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 7 

With hairy springes we the birds betra}^, 25 

Shght hues of hair surprise the finny prey, 
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, 
And beauty draws us with a single hair.° 

Th' adventurous Baron the bright locks admired; >> , 
He saw, he wish'd, and to the prize aspired. 30 

Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way. 
By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; 
For when success a lover's toil attends. 
Few ask if fraud or force attain 'd his ends. 

For this, ere Phcebus rose, he had implor'd 35 

Propitious Heav'n, and every Power ador'cl, 
But chiefly Love — to Love an altar built 
Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt.° 
There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves, 
And all the trophies of his former loves; 40 

With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre. 
And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire. 
Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes 
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize : 
The Powers gave ear, and granted half his prayer,° 45 

The rest the winds dispers'd in empty air. 

But now secure the painted vessel glides, 
The sunbeams trembling on the floating tides 
While melting music steals upon the sky, 
And soften'd sounds along the waters die : 5° 

Smooth flow the weaves, the zephyrs gently play, 
Belinda smil'd, and all the world was gay. 
All but the Sylph — with careful thoughts opprest 
Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. 
He summons straight his denizens of air; 55 

The lucid squadrons round the sails repair: 



8 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe 
That seem'd but zephyrs to the train beneath^^ 
Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold, '' 

60 Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold ; 
Transparent forms too fine for mortal sight, 
Their fluid bodies half dissolv'd in light. 
Loose to the wind their airy garments flew, 
Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew, 

65 Dipt in the richest tincture of the skies. 
Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes. 
While ev'ry beam new transient colours flings, 
Colours that change wdiene'er they wave their wings. 
Amid the circle, on the gilded mast, 

70 Superior by the head was Ariel placed ; 
His purple pinions opening to the sun. 
He raised his azure wand, and thus begun: 

' Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear. 
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, ° hear ! 

75 Ye know the spheres and various tasks assign'd 
By laws eternal to th' aerial kind. 
Some in the fields of purest ether play. 
And bask and whiten in the blaze of day : 
Some guide the course of wand 'ring orbs on high, 

80 Or roll the planets thro' the boundless sky : 
Some, less refin'd, beneath the moon's pale light 
Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, 
Or suck the mists in grosser air below, 
Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, 

85 Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, 
Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain. 
Others, on earth, o'er human race preside, 
Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide : 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 9 

Of these the chief the care of nations own, 

And guard with arms divine the British Throne. 90 

' Our humbler province is to tend the Fair, 
Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious care; 
To save the Powder from too rude a gale; 
Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale; 
To draw fresh colours from the vernal flowers; 95 

To steal from rainbows ere they drop in showers 
A brighter Wash; to curl their waving hairs, 
Assist their blushes and inspire their airs; 
Nay, oft in dreams invention we bestow. 
To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelow. 100 

' This day black omens threat the brightest Fair, 
That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care; 
Some dire disaster, or by force or slight ; 
But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in night. 
Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, 105 

Or some frail China jar receive a flaw; 
Or stain her honour, or her new brocade,° 
Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade. 
Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball ; 
Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall. no 
Haste, then, ye Spirits ! to your charge repair: 
The flutt'ring fan be Zephyretta's care; 
The drops° to thee, Brillante, we consign; 
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine; 
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite Lock; \ 115 

Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock.° 

' To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note, 
We trust th' important charge, the petticoat; 
Oft have we known that sev'n-fold fence to fail, 
Tho' stiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs of whale : 120 



10 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

Form a strong line about the silver bound, 
And guard the wide circumference around. 
' Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, 
His post neglects, or leaves the Fair at large, 

125 Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins: 
Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins, 
Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie. 
Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye; 
Gums and pomatums shall his flight restrain, 

130 While clogg'd he beats his silken wings in vain, 
Or alum styptics with contracting powder 
Shrink his thin essence like a rivell'd flower: 
Or, as Ixion° fix'd, the wretch shall feel 
The giddy motion of the whirling mill, 

135 In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow, 
And tremble at the sea that froths below ! ' 

He spoke ; the spirits from the sails descend ; 
Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend; 
Some thread the mazy ringlets of her hair; 

140 Some hang upon the pendants of her ear ; 
With beating hearts the dire event they wait, 
Anxious, and trembling for the birth of Fate. 



CANTO ni 

Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flowers, 
Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers 
There stands a structure of majestic frame, ° 
Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name. 
5 Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom 
Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home; 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 11 

Here, thou, great Anna ! whom three realms obey. 
Dost sometimes counsel take — and sometimes..tea. 

Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort,, ^<Z^ 

To taste awhile the pleasures of a court ; 
In various talk th' instructive hours they past, 
Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; 
One speaks the glory of the British Queen, 
And one describes a charming Indian screen; 
A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; 15 

At every word a reputation dies. 
Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, 
With singing, laughing, ogling, mid all that. 

iMeanwhile, declining from the noon of day, 
The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray ; 
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, 
And wretches hang that jurymen may dine°; 
The merchant from th' Exchange returns in peace, 
And the long labours of the toilet cease. 
Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, 25 

Burns to encounter two adventurous knights. 
At Ombre° singly to decide their doom. 
And swells her breast with conquests yet to come. 
Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join. 
Each band the number of the sacred Nine. 30 

Soon as she spreads her hand, th' aerial guard 
Descend, and sit on each important card: 
First Ariel- perch'd upon a Matadore,° 
Then each according to the rank they bore; 
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, 35 

Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place. 

Behold four Kings in majesty revered, 
With hoary whiskers and a forky beard; 



12 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain a flower 

40 Th' expressive emblem of their softer power; 
Four Knaves, in garbs succinct, a trusty band, 
Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand 
And party-colour'd troops, a shining train, 
Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain. 

45 The skilful nymph reviews her force with care ; 
' Let Spades be trumps ! ' she said, and trumps they were 

Now move to war her sable Matadores, 
In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors. 
Spadillio first, unconquerable lord° ! 

so Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board. 
As many more Manillio° forced to yield, 
And march'd a victor from the verdant field. 
Him Basto° followed, but his fate more hard 
Gain'd but one trump and one plebeian card. 

55 With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, 
The hoary Majesty of Spades appears. 
Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd; 
The rest his many colour'd robe concealed. 
The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, 

60 Proves the just victim of his royal rage. 

Ev'n mighty Pam, that kings and queens o'erthrew, 
And mow'd down armies in the fights of Loo,° 
Sad chance of war ! now destitute of aid, 
Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade. 

65 Thus far both armies to Belinda yield ; 
Now to the Baron Fate inclines the field. 
His warlike amazon her host invades, 
Th' imperial consort of the crown of Spades. 
The Club's black tyrant first her victim died, 

70 Spite of his haughty mien and barb'rous pride: 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 13 

What boots the regal circle on his head, 
His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread ; 
That long behind he trails his pompous robe, 
And of all monarchs only grasps the globe ? 

The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; 75 

Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his face, 
And his refulgent Queen, with powers combin'd, 
Of broken troops an easy conquest find. 
Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, 
With throngs promiscuous strew the level green, 80 

Thus when dispers'd a routed army runs, 
Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons. 
With like confusion different nations fly. 
Of various habit, and of various dye; 

The pierced battalions disunited fall 85 

In heaps on heaps; one fate overwhelms them all. 

The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, 
And wins (oh shameful chance !) the Queen of Hearts. 
At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook, 
A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look; 90 

She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill. 
Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille.° 
And now (as oft in some distemper'd state) 
On one nice trick depends the gen'ral fate ! 
An Ace of Hearts steps forth : the King unseen 9S 

Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen. 
He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, 
And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. 
The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the sky; 
The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. 100 

Oh thoughtless mortals ! ever blind to fate. 
Too soon dejected, and too soon elate: 



14 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

Sudden these honours shall be snatch'd away, 
And curs'd for ever this victorious day. 

105 For lo ! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd; 
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round°; 
On shining altars of japan they° raise 
The silver lamp ; the fiery spirits blaze : 
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, 

no While China's earth receives the smoking tide. 
At once they gratify their scent and taste, 
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast. 
Straight hover round the Fair her airy band ; 
Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd, 

IIS Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display 'd, 
Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade. 
Coffee (which makes the politician wise, 
And see thro' all things with his half-shut eyes) 
Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain 

120 New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. 
Ah, cease, rash youth ! desist ere 'tis too late. 
Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's fate ! 
Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air, 
She dearly pays for Nisus' injured hair° ! 

125 But when to mischief mortals bend their will, 
/How soon they find fit instruments of ill ! 
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace 
A two-edg'd weapon from her shining case : 
So ladies in romance assist their knight, 

130 Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. 
He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends- 
The little engine on his fingers' ends; 
This just behind Belinda's neck he spread. 
As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 15 

Swift to the Lock a thousand sprites repair; 135 

A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair; 

And thrice they twitch'd the diamond in her ear; 

Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near. 

Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought 

The close recesses of the virgin's thought : 140 

As on the nosegay in her breast reclin'd, 

He watch'd th' ideas rising in her mind, 

Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art, 

An earthly Lover lurking at her heart. 

Amaz'd, confused, he found his power expired, 145 

Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired. 

The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring forfex wide, 
T' inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide. 
Ev'n then, before the fatal engine closed, 
A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed ; ', 150 

Fate urged the shears, and cut the Sylph in twainlj 
(But airy substance soon unites again). ° ' 

The meeting points the sacred hair dissever 
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever ! 

Then flash 'd the living lightning from her eyes, . 155 

And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies. 
Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav'n are cast, 
When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last; 
Or when rich China vessels, fall'n from high. 
In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments lie° ! 160 

' Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine/ 
The Victor cried, ' the glorious prize is mine ! 
While fish in streams, or birds delight in air, 
Or in a coach and six the British Fair, 
As long as Atalantis° shall be read, 165 

Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed,° 



16 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

While visits shall be paid on solemn days, 
When numerous wax-lights in bright order blaze: 
While nymphs take treats, or assignations give, 

170 So long my honour, name, and praise shall live ! 

What Time would spare, from Steel° receives its date, 
And monuments, like men, submit to Fate ! 
Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy, 
And strike to dust th' imperial towers of Troy ; 

175 Steel could the works of mortal pride confound 
And hew triumphal arches to the ground. 
What wonder, then, fair Nymph ! thy hairs should feel 
The conquering force of unresisted steel ? ' 



CANTO IV 

But anxious cares° the pensive nymph opprest, 
And secret passions laboured in her breast. 
Not youthful kings in battle seiz'd alive, 
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, 

S Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss, 
Not ancient ladies wdien refused a kiss. 
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, 
Not Cynthia when her mantua's pinn'd awry, 
E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,/ 

10 As thou, sad Virgin ! for thy ravish'd hair. 

For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew. 
And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, 
Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite 
As ever sullied the fair face of light, 

IS Down to the central earth, his proper scene, 
Repaired to search the gloomy cave of Spleen. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 17 

Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome, 
And in a vapour reach 'd the dismal dome. 
No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, 
The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. 20 

Here in a grotto shelter'd close from air, 
And screen 'd in shades from day's detested glare, 
She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, l 
Pain at her side, and Megrim° at her head. 
Two handmaids wait the throne ; alike in place, 25 

But diff'ring far in figure and in face. 
Here stood Ill-nature, like an ancient maid, 
Her wrinkled form in black and white array 'd ! 
With store of prayers for mornings, nights, and noons. 
Her hand is fill'd ; her bosom with lampoons. 30 

There Affectation, with a sickly mien, 
Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, 
Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside, 
Faints into airs, and languishes with pride; 
On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, 35 

Wrapt in a gown for sickness and for show. 
The fair ones feel such maladies as these, 
When each new night-dress gives a new disease. 

A constant vapour o'er the palace flies 
vStrange phantoms rising as the mists arise; 40 

Dreadful as hermits' dreams in haunted shades. 
Or bright as visions of expiring maids : 
Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires. 
Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires; 
Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, 45 

And crystal domes, and angels in machines. 

Unnumber'd throngs on ev'ry side are seen, 
Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen. 



18 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

Here living Teapots stand, one arm held out, 
50 One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: 

A Pipkin there, like Homer's Tripod° walks; 

Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie talks°; 

Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works, 

And maids turn'd bottles call aloud for corks. 
55 Safe pass'cl the Gnome thro' this fantastic band, 

A branch of heahng spleenwort in his hand. 

Then thus address 'd the Power — ' Hail, wayward Queen ! 

Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen : 

Parent of Vapours and of female wit, 

Who give th' hysteric or poetic fit, 
60 On various tempers act by various ways, 

Make some take physic, others scribble plays; 

Who cause the proud their visits to delay, 

And send the godly in a pet to pray. 

A nymph there is that all your power disdains, 
65 And thousands more in equal mirth maintains. 

But oh ! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace, 

Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, 

Like citron-waters° matrons' cheeks inflamxC, 

Or change complexions at a losing game; 
70 If e'er with airy horns I planted heads. 

Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds, 

Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude, 

Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude. 

Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease, 
75 Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease, 

Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin ; 

That single act gives half the world the spleen.' 
The Goddess, with a discontented air, 

Seems to reject him tho' she grants his prayer. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 19 

A wondrous Bag with both her hands she binds, 80 

Like that where once Ulysses held the winds°; 

There she collects the force of. female lungs, 

Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tonguesA 

A Vial next she fills with fainting fears. 

Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears. 85 

The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away. 

Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day. 

Sunk in Thalestris'° arms the nymph he found, 
Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound. 
Full o'er their heads the swelling Bag he rent, 90 

And all the Furies issued at the vent. 
Belinda burns with more than mortal ire. 
And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire. 
' O wretched maid ! ' she spread her hands, and cried 
(While Hampton's echoes, 'Wretched maid !' replied), 95 
' Was it for this you took such constant care 
The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare? 
For this your locks in paper durance bound ? 
For this with torturing irons wreathed around ? 
For this with fillets strain'd your tender head, 100 

And bravely bore the double loads of lead° ? 
Gods ! shall the ravisher display your hair. 
While the fops envy, and the ladies stare ! 
Honour forbid ! at whose unrivall'd shrine 
Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, all, our sex resign. 105 

Methinks already I your tears survey, 
Already hear the horrid things the}' say, 
Already see you a degraded toast. 
And all your honour in a whisper lost ! 
How shall I, then, your hapless fame defend? no 

Twill then be infamy to seem your friend ! 



20 . THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize, 

Expos'd thro' crystal to the gazing eyes, 

And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays, 

115 On that rapacious hand for ever blaze? 

Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow. 
And Wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow°; 
Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, 
Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish all ! ' 

120 She said ; then raging to Sir Plume° repairs, 
And bids her beau demand the precious hairs 
(Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, 
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane) : 
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, 

125 He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case. 

And thus broke out — 'My lord, why, what the devil ! 
Z — ds ! damn the Lock ! 'fore Gad, you must be civil ! 
Plague on't ! 'tis past a jest — nay, prithee, pox ! 
Give her the hair.' — He spoke, and rapp'd his box. 

130 ' It grieves me much,' replied the Peer again, 
' Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain : 
But by this Lock, this sacred Lock, I swear 
(Which never more shall join its parted hair; 
Which never more its honours shall renew, 

i35Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew), 
That, while my nostrils draw the vital air. 
This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.' 
He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread 
The long-contended honours of her head. 

140 But Umbriel, hateful Gnome, forbears not so; 
He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow. 
Then see ! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, 
Her eyes half-languishing, half drown'd in tears; 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 21 

On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping head, 145 

Which with a sigh she rais'd, and thus she said: 

'For ever curs'd be this detested day, 
Which snatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl away\! 
Happy ! ah, ten times happy had I been, 
If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen ! 150 

Yet am not I the first mistaken maid, 
By love of courts to numerous ills betray'd. 
O had I rather unadmired rem.ain'd 
In some lone isle, or distant northern land; 
Where the gilt chariot never marks the way, 155 

Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea ! 
There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal 63^6, 
Like roses, that in deserts bloom and die. 
What mov'd my mind with youthful lords to roam ? 
O had I stay'd, and said my prayers at home; 160 

'Twas this the morning omens seem'd to tell, 
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box° fell; 
The tott'ring china shook without a wind; 
Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind ! 
A Sylph, too, warn'd me of the threats of fate, 165 

In mystic visions, now believ'd too late ! f 
See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs ! 
My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares. 
These, in two sable ringlets taught to break, 
Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck; 170 

The sister-lock now sits uncouth alone. 
And in its fellow's fate foresees its own; 
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal shears demands. 
And tempts once more thy sacrilegious hands. 
O hadst thou, cruel ! been content to seize - 175 

Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these ! ' 



22 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



CANTO V 

She said: the pitying audience melt in tears; 

But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears./ 

In vain Thalestris with reproach assails, 

For Avho can move when fair Belinda fails ? 
5 Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain, 

While Anna begg'd and Dido raged in vain.° 

Then grave Clarissa graceful waved her fan; 

Silence ensued, and thus the nymph began: 

' Say, why are beauties prais'd and honoured most, 
loThe wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? 

Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, 

Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd? 

Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd beaux ? 

Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows° ? 
15 How vain are all these glories, all our pains, 

Unless Good Sense preserve what Beauty gains; 

That men may say when we the front-box grace, 

'^Behold the first in virtue as in face !" 

Oh ! if to dance all night, and dress all day, 
2oCharm'd the smallpox, or chased old age awa}"; 

Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, 

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? 

To patch, nay, ogle, might become a saint, 

Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint. 
25 But since, alas ! frail beaut}^ must decay, 

Curl'd or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to gray; 

Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade, 

And she who scorns a man must die a maid ; 

What then remains, but well our power to use. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 23 

And keep good humour still whate'er we lose ? 30 

And trust me, dear, good humour can prevail, y 

When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. 
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; 
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.' / 

So spoke the dame, but no applause ensued; 35 

Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her prude. 
'To arms, to arms !" the fierce virago cries, 
And swift as lightning to the combat flies. 
All side in parties, and begin th' attack; 
Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack; 40 
Heroes' and heroines' shouts confusedly rise, 
And base and treble voices strike the skies. 
No common weapons in their hands are found. 
Like Gods they fight nor dread a mortal w^ound. 

So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage, 45 

And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage; 
'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; 
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms; 
Jove's thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all around. 
Blue Neptune storms, the bell 'wing deeps resound: 50 

Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives way, 
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day ! 

Triumphant Umbriel, on a sconce's height, 
Clapp'd his glad wings, and sat to view the fight: 
Propp'd on their bodkin-spears, the sprites survey 55 

The growing combat, or assist the fray. 

While thro' the press enraged Thalestris flies, 
And scatters death around from both her eyes, 
A Beau and Witling perish 'd in the throng. 
One died in metaphor, and one in song: 60 

'0 cruel Nymph! a living death I bear,' 



24 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. 

A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, 

' Those eyes are made so killing ' — was his last. 
65 Thus on Miieander's flowery margin lies 

Th' expiring swan, and as he sings he dies. 

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, 

Chloe stepped in, and kill'd him with a frown; 

She smiled to see the doughty hero slain, 
70 But, at her smile, the beau revived again. 

Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air,° 

Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; 

The doubtful beam long nods from side to side ; 

At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. 
75 See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies. 

With more than usual lightning in her eyes ; 

Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, 

Who sought no more than on his foe to die. 

But this bold lord, with manly strength endued, 
80 She with one finger and a thumb subdued : 

Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, 

A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw ; 

The Gnomes direct, to every atom just. 

The pungent grains of titillating dust. 
85 Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows. 

And the high dome reechoes to his nose. 

' Now meet thy fate,' incens'd Belinda cried, 

And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. 

(The same, his ancient personage to deck, 
90 Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck, 

In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, ! 

Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown : 

Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew, 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 25 

The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew; 
Then in a bodkin graced her mother's hairs, 
Which long she wore and now Belinda wears.) 
^ Boast not my fall,' he cried, 'insulting foe ! 
Thou by some other shalt be laid as low; 
Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind° : 
All that I dread is leaving you behind ! 
Rather than so, ah, let me still survive, 
And burn in Cupid's flames — but burn alive.' 
'Restore the Lock ! ' she cries; and all around 
' Restore the Lock ! ' the vaulted roofs rebound. 
Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain 
Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain. 

I But see how oft ambitious aims are cross'd, \ 
,And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost ! ^ 

(The lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain, 
■ In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain : / 
With such a prize no mortal must be blest. 
So Heav'n decrees ! with Heav.'n who can contest ? 

Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere^ 
Since all things lost on earth are treasured there.y 
There heroes' wits are kept in pond'rous vases. 
And beaux' in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. 
There broken vows, and deathbed alms are found, 
And lovers'" hearts with ends of riband bound, 
The courtier's promises, and sick man's prayers, 
The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 
Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea. 
Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry. 

But trust the Muse — she saw it upward rise, 
Tho' mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes 
(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew. 



26 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 

To Proculus alone confess'd in view) : 

A sudden star, it shot thro' liquid air, 

And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. 

Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, 
130 The heav'ns bespangling with dishevell'd light. 

The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, 

And pleas 'd pursue its progress thro' the skies. 
This the beau monde shall from the Mall survey, 

And hail with music its propitious ray; 
135 This the blest lover shall for Venus take, 

And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake; 

This Partridge° soon shall view in cloudless skies, 

When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes°; 

And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom 
140 The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 

Then cease, bright N3'mph ! to mourn thy ravish'd hair, 

Which adds new glory to the shining sphere ! 

Not all the tresses that fair head can boast 

Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost. 
145 For after all the murders of your eye, 
/When, after millions slain, vourself shall die; 
' When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, 

And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, 

This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, 
^50 And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name. 



'*<<%•;- 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 
IN FOUR EPISTLES TO LORD BOLINGBEOKE 



The first two epistles of the Essay on J/^n were written in 1732, 
the third in the year following, and the fourth in 1734, when the 
complete Essay was published as we have it. 

EPISTLE I 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN, WITH RESPECT TO 

THE UNIVERSE 

Awake, my St. John° ! leave all meaner things 
To low ambition and the pride of Kings. 
Let us, since life can little more supply 
Than just to look about us and to die, 
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; 5 

A mighty maze^ ! but not without a plan ; 
A wild, where weeds 'and flowers promiscuous shoot, 
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. 
Together let us beat this ample field, 

Try what the open, what the covert yield; lo 

The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore 
Of all who blindly creep or sightless soar; 

27 



28 AN ESSAY Oy MAN 

Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, 

And catch the manners living as they rise; 
15 Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, 

But vindicate the ways of God to man.° ^a 
I. Say first, of God above or Man below 

What can we reason but from what we know ? 

Of man what see we but his station here, 
20 From which to reason, or to which refer? 

Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known, 

'Tis ours to trace him only in our own. 

He who thro' vast immensity can pierce. 

See worlds on worlds compose one universe, 
25 Observe how system into system runs. 

What other planets circle other suns. 

What varied being peoples every star. 

May tell why Heav'n has made us as we are: 

But of this frame, the bearings and the ties, 
30 The strong connexions, nice dependencies. 

Gradations just, has thy pervading soul 

Look'd thro'; or can a part contain the whole? 
Is the great chain° that draws all to agree, 

And drawn supports, upheld by God or thee? 
35 II. Presumptuous man ! the reason wouldst thou find, 

Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind? 

First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess 

Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less ! 

Ask of thy mother earth why oaks are made 
A^ Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade ! 
■ Or ask of ^^onder argent fields above 

Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove ! 
Of systems possible, if 'tis confest 

That wisdom infinite must form the best, 



AN ESSAY ON MAN , 29 

Where all must fall or not coherent be, 45 

And all that rises rise in due degree; 

Then in the scale of reasoning life 'tis plain 

There must be, somewhere, such a rank as Man: 

And all the question (wrangle e'er so long) 

Is only this, — if God has placed him wrong? 50 

Respecting Man, w^hatever wrong we call, 
May, must be right, as relative to all. 
In human works, tho' labour'd on with pain, 
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; 
In God's, one single can its end produce, 55 

Yet serve to second too some other use : 
So man, who here seems principal alone. 
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown, 
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal: 
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole. 60 

When the proud steed shall know why man restrains 
His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains; 
W^hen the dull ox,° why now he breaks the clod, 
Is now a victim, and now Egypt's God ; 
Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend 65 

His actions', passions', being's, use and end; 
Why doing, suff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why 
This hour a Slave, the next a Deity. 

Then say not man's irh perfect, Heav'n in fault; 
Say rather man's as perfect as he ought; \^ 70 

His knowledge measured to his state and place. 
His time a moment, and a point his space. 
If to be perfect in a certain sphere, 
What matter soon or late, or here or there? 
The blest to-day is as completely so 75 

As who began a thousand years ago. 



30 Ay ESSAY ox J/JiV 

III. Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of Fate, 

All but the page prescribed, their present state; 

From brutes what men, from men what spirits know; 
80 Or who could suffer being here below ? 
^ I The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
' Had he thy reason would he skip and play ? 

Pleas'd to the last he crops the flowery food. 

And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 
85 O blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 

That each ma}^ fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n; 

Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 

A hero perish or a sparrow fall,° 

Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, 
90 And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; 

Wait the great teacher Death, and God adore. 

What future bliss He gives not thee to know, 

But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
95 Hope springs eternal in the human breast: ^^ 

i\Ian never is, but always to be, blest. 

The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, 

Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 

Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind 
ICO Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; 

His soul proud Science never taught to stray 

Far as the solar walk or milky way°; 

Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, 

Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler Heav'n, 
105 Some safer world in depths of woods embraced, 

Some happier island in the wat'ry waste, 

Where slaves once more their native land behold, 

No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 31 

To be, contents his natural desire ; 

He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; no 

But thinks, admitted to that equal sky. 

His faithful dog shall bear him company. 

IV. Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of sense 
Weigh thy opinion against Providence; 

Call imperfection what thou fanciest such ; 115 

Say, here he gives too little, there too much; 

Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust, 

Yet cry, if man's unhappy, God's unjust; ' ^ 

If man alone engross not Heav'n's high care, 

Alone made perfect here, immortal there : 120 

Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod, 

Rejudge his justice, be the god of God. 

In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; 

All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies ! 

Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes, 125 

Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods. 

Aspiring to be Gods if Angels fell. 

Aspiring to be Angels men rebel : 

And who but wishes to invert the laws 

Of order, sins against th' Eternal Cause. 130 

V. Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies shine. 
Earth for whose use, — Pride answers, ' 'Tis for mine : 
For me kind Nature wakes her genial power. 
Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry flower; 

Annual for me the grape, the rose, renew 135 

The juice nectareous and the balmy dew; 

For me the mine a thousand treasures brings ; 

For me health gushes from a thousand springs 

Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; 

My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.' 140 



32 AJ^ ESSAY ON MAN 

But errs not Nature from this gracious end, 
From burning suns when hvid deaths descend, 
When earthquakes swahow, or when tempests sweep 
Tow^ns to one grave, ° whole nations to the deep ? 

145 ' No,' 'tis repUed, ^ the first Almighty Cause 
Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws; 
Th' exceptions few; some change since all began 
And what created perfect ? ' — Why then man ? 
If the great end be human happiness, 

150 Then Nature deviates ; and can man do less ? 
As much that end a constant course requires 
Of showers and sunshine, as of man's desires; 
As much eternal springs and cloudless skies. 
As men for ever temp'rate, calm, and wdse. 

155 If plagues or earthquakes break not Heav'n's design, 
Why then a Borgia° or a Catiline ? 
Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms. 
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms; 
Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind, 

160 Or turns young Ammon° loose to scourge mankind ? 
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning springs; 
Account for moral as for natural things : 
Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit ? 
In both, to reason right is to submit. 

165 Better for us, perhaps, it might appear, 
Were there all harmony, all virtue here; 
That never air or ocean felt the wind. 
That never passion discomposed the mind : 
But all subsists by elemental strife ; 

170 And passions are the elements of life. 
The gen'ral order, since the whole began, 
Is kept in Nature, and is kept in Man. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 33 

VI. What would this ^lan ? Now upward will he soar, 
And little less than Angel, would be more; 
Now looking downwards, just as griev'd appears 175 

To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears. 
Made for his use all creatures if he call. 
Say what their use, had he the powers of all ? 
Nature to these without profusion kind. 
The proper organs, proper powers assigned ; 180 

Each seeming want compensated of course. 
Here with degrees of swiftness, there of force; 
All in exact proportion to the state; 
Nothing to add, and nothing to abate; 
Each beast, each insect, happy in its own : 185 

Is Heav'n unkind to man, and man alone? 
Shall he alone, whom rational we call, _^ 

Be pleas'd with nothing if not bless'd with all ? 

The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find) 
Is not to act or think beyond mankind ; 190 

No powers of body or of soul to share, 
But what his nature and his state can bear. 
Why has not man a microscopic eye ? 
For this plain reason, man is not a fly. 
Say, what the use, were finer optics giv'n, 195 

T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the Heav'n ? 
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, 
To smart and agonize at every pore ? 
Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain, 
Die of a rose in aromatic pain ? 200 

If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears. 
And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres, 
How would he wish that Heav'n had left him still 
The whisp'ring zephyr and the purling rill ? 



34 AN ESSAY ON 31 AN 

205 Who finds not Providence all good and wise, 
Alike in what it gives and what denies ? 

VII. Far as creation's ample range extends, 
The scale of sensual, mental powers ascends. 
Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race 

210 From the green myriads in the peopled grass : 
What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, 
The mole's dim curtain and the lynx's beam: 
Of smell, the headlong lioness° between 
And hound sagacious on the tainted green: 

215 Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood 
To that which warbles thro' the vernal wood. 
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine, 
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line: 
In the nice bee what sense so subtly true, 

220 From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew ! 
How instinct varies in the grovelling swine, 
Compared, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine ! 
'Twixt that and reason what a nice barrier ! 
For ever separate, yet for ever near ! 

225 Remembrance and reflection how allied ! 

What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide ! 
And middle natures how they long to join, 
Yet never pass th' insuperable line ! 
Without this just gradation could they be 

230 Subjected these to those, or all to thee ! 
The powers of all subdued by thee alone. 
Is not thy Reason all these powers in one ? 

VIII. See thro' this air, this ocean, and this earth 
All matter quick, and bursting into birth: 

235 Above, how high progressive life may go ! 
Around, how wide ! how deep extend below ! 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 3d 

Vast chain of being ! which from God began; 

Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, 

Beast, bird, fish, insect, who no eye can see, 

No glass can reach ; from infinite to thee ; 240 

From thee to nothing. — On superior powers 

Were we to press, inferior might on ours ; 

Or in the full creation leave a void, 

Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroyed : 

From Nature's chain whatever link you like, 245 

Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike. 

And if each system in gradation roll, 
Alike essential to th' amazing Whole, 
The least confusion but in one, not all 

That system only, but the Whole must fall. 250 

Let earth unbalanced from her orbit fly. 
Planets and stars run lawless thro' the sky; 
Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurl'd. 
Being on being wreck 'd, and world on world; 
Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre nod, 255 

And Nature tremble to the throne of God ! 
All this dread order break — for whom ? for thee ? 
Vile worm ! — madness ! pride ! impiety ! 

IX. What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread, 
Or hand to toil, aspired to be the head ? 260 

What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd 
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind ? 
Just as absurd for any part to claim 
To be another in this gen'ral frame; 

Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains 265 

The great directing Mind of All ordains. 

All are but parts of one stupendous Whole, 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul; 



36 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

That changed thro' all, and yet in all the same, 
270 Great in the earth as in th' ethereal frame, 

Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 

Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; 

Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent, , 

Spreads undivided, operates unspent; 
275 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part 

As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; 

As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, 

As the rapt Seraph° that adores and burns. 

To him no high, no low, no great, no small; 
280 He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all ! 

X. Cease, then, nor Order imperfection name; 

Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 

Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree 

Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee. 
285 Submit : in this or any other sphere, 

Secure to be as bless'd as thou canst bear; 

Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, 

Or in the natal or the mortal hour. 

All Nature is but Art unknown to thee ; 
290 All chance direction, which thou canst not see; 

All discord, harmony not understood; 

All partial evil, universal good: 

And spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite, 

One truth is clear. Whatever is, is right. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 37 



EPISTLE II 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO 
HIMSELF AS AN INDIVIDUAL 

I. Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, 

The proper study of mankind is Man. 

Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, 

A being darkly wise and rudely great : 

With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side, 5 

With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride, 

He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest; 

In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast; 

In doubt his mind or body to prefer; 

Born but to die, and reasoning but to err; lo 

Alike in ignorance, his reason such, 

Whether he thinks too little or too much; 

Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; 

Still by himself abused or disabused ; 

Created half to rise, and half to fall; 15 

Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all ; 

Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; 

The glory, jest, and riddle of the world ! 

Go, wondrous creature ! mount where Science guides; 
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides; 20 

Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, 
Correct old Time,° and regulate the sun; 
Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere, 
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair; 
Or tread the mazy round his followers trod, 25 

And quitting sense call imitating God ; 



38 JX ESSAY OX MAX 

As eastern priests in gicld}- circles run, 

And turn their heads to imitate the sun. 

Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule — 
30 Then drop into thyself, and be a fool ! 
Superior beings, when of late they saw 

A mortal man unfold all Nature's law, 

Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape, 

And show'd a Newton as we show an ape. 
35 Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind, 

Describe or fix one movement of his mind ? 

Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, 

Explain his own beginning or his end ? 

Alas ! what wonder ! Man's superior part 
4oUncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to art; 

But when his own great work is but begun. 

What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone. 
Trace Science then, with modesty thy guide; 

First strip off all her equipage of pride; 
45 Deduct what is but vanity or dress, 

Or learning's luxury, or idleness. 

Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain, 

Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; 

Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts; 
50 Of all our vices have created arts ; 

Then see how little the remaining sum, 

Which serv'd the past, and must the times to come ! 
II. Two principles in Human Nature reign, 

Self-love to urge, and Reason to restrain; 
55 Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call; 

Each works its end, to move or govern all: 

And to their proper operation still 

Ascribe all good, to their improper, ill. 



.4i\r SSSAY ON 31 AN 39 

Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul;\ \jjj^. 
Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. ^ 60 

Man but for that no action could attend, 
And but for this were active to no end : 
Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot. 
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot; 
Or meteor-like, flame lawless thro' the void, 65 

Destroying others, by himself destroy 'd. 

Most strength the moving principle requires; 
Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires: 
Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, 

Form'd but to check, delib'rate, and advise. 70 

Self-love still stronger, as its object's nigh; 
Reason's at distance and in prospect lie : 
That sees immediate good b}^ present sense; 
Reason, the future and the consequence. 
Thicker than arguments, temptations throng; 75 

At best more w^atchful this, but that more strong. 
The action of the stronger to suspend, 
Reason still use, to Reason still attend. 
Attention habit and experience gains; 1 • V 
Each strengthens Reason, and Self-love restrains. 80 

Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight, 
More studious to divide than to unite; 
And Grace and Virtue, Sense and Reason split, 
With all the rash dexterity of Wit. 

Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, 85 

Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. 
Self-love and Reason to one end aspire, 
Pain their aversion. Pleasure their desire; 
But greedy that, its object would devour; 
This taste the honey, and not wound the flower : 90 



40 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, 
Our greatest evil or our greatest good. 

III. Modes of Self-love the passions we may call; 
'Tis real good or seeming moves them all : 

95 But since not every good we can divide, 
And Reason bids us for our own provide, 
Passions, tho' selfish, if their means be fair, 
List under Reason, and deserve her care ; 
Those that imparted court a nobler aim, 

loo Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name. 
In lazy apathy let Stoics boast 
Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost; 
Contracted all, retiring to the breast; 
But strength of mind is Exercise, not Rest : 

105 The rising tempest puts in act the soul, 

Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. 
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. 
Reason the card,° but Passion is the gale; 
Nor God alone in the still calm we find, 

no He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind. 
Passions, like elements, tho' born to fight, 
Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: 
These 'tis enough to temper and employ ; 
But what composes man can man destroy ? 

115 Suffice that Reason keep to Nature's road; 
Subject, compound them, follow her and God. 
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train, 
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain, 
These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd, 

120 Make and maintain the balance of the mind ; 
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife 
Gives all the strength and colour of our life. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 41 

Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes, 
And when in act they cease, in prospect rise: 
Present to grasp, and future still to find, 125 

The whole employ of body and of mind. 
All spread their charms, but charm not all alike; 
On diff'rent senses diff'rent objects strike; 
Hence diff'rent passions more or less inflame, 
As strong or weak the organs of the frame; 130 

And hence one Master-passion in the breast. 
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. 

As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath. 
Receives the lurking principle of death, 
The young disease, that must subdue at length, 135 

Grows with his growth, and strengthens wdth his 

strength : 
So, cast and mingled with his very frame. 
The mind's disease, its Ruling Passion, came; 
Each vital humour, which should feed the whole, 
Soon flows to this in body and in soul ; 140 

Whatever warms the heart or fills the head. 
As the mind opens and its functions spread, 
Imagination plies her dangerous art, 
And pours it all upon the peccant part. 

Nature its mother. Habit is its nurse; 145 

Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; 
Reason itself but gives it edge and power. 
As Heav'n's bless'd beam turns vinegar more sour. 

We, wretched subjects, tho' to lawful sway. 
In this weak queen some fav'rite still obey : 150 

Ah ! if she lend not arms as well as rules. 
What can she more than tell us we are fools ? 
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend, 



42 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend ! 

155 Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade 
The choice we make, or justify it made; 
Proud of an easy conquest all along, 
She but removes weak passions for the strong : 
So when small humours gather to a gout, 

160 The doctor fancies he has driv'n them out. 
Yes, Nature's road must ever be preferr'd; 
Reason is here no guide, but still a guard; 
Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow. 
And treat this passion more as friend than foe : 

165 A mightier Power the strong direction sends, 
And sev'ral men impels to sev'ral ends: 
Like varying winds, by other passions toss'd, 
This drives them constant to a certain coast. 
Let Power or Knowledge, Gold or Glory, please, 

170 Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease ; 
Thro' life 'tis follow'd, ev'n at life's expense; 
The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence, 
The monk's humility, the hero's pride. 
All, all alike, find Reason on their side. 

175 Th' Eternal Art educing good from ill. 
Grafts on this passion our best principle: 
'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd. 
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd; 
The dross cements what else were too refin'd, 

180 And in one int'rest body acts with mind. 
As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care, 
On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear. 
The surest Virtues thus from Passions shoot, 
Wild Nature's vigour working at the root. 

185 What crops of wit and honesty appear 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 43 

From spleen, from obstinac\', hate, or fear ! 

See anger, zeal and fortitude supply ; 

Ev'n av'rice prudence, sloth philosophy; 

Lust, thro' some certain strainers well refin'd, 

Is gentle love, and charms all womankind ; 190 

Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave, 

Is emulation in the learn'd or brave; 

Nor virtue male or female can we name, 

But what will grow on pride or grow on shame. 

Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride) 195 

The Virtue nearest to our Vice allied : 
Reason the bias turns to good from ill, 
And Nero reigns a Titus if he will. 
The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline, 

In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine° : 200 

The same ambition can destroy or save. 
And makes a patriot as it makes a knave. 
. IV. This light and darkness in our chaos join'd. 
What shall divide ? — the God within the mind.° 

Extremes in Nature ec^ual ends produce; 205 

In Man they join to some mysterious use; 
Tho' each by turns the other's bounds invade. 
As in some well-wrought picture light and shade; 
And oft so mix, the cliff'rence is too nice 
Where ends the Virtue or begins the Vice. 210 

Fools ! who from hence into the notion fall 
That Vice or Virtue there is none at all. 
If white and black blend, goften, and unite 
A thousand ways, is there no black or white ? 
Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; 215 

'Tis to mistake them costs the time and pain. 

V. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien. 



44 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

As to be hated needs but to be seen; 
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 

220 We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 

But where th' extreme of Vice was ne'er agreed : 
Ask where's the north? — at York 'tis on the Tweed; 
In Scotland at the Orcades ; and there 
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. 

225 No creature own it in the first degree. 

But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he; 
Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone, 
Or never feel the rage or never own ; 
What happier natures shrink at with affright, 

230 The hard inhabitant contends is right. 

Virtuous and vicious ev'ry man must be, 
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree : 
The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise, 
And ev'n the best by fits what they despise. 

23s 'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill ; 
For Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still ; 
Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal ; 
But Heav'n's great view is one, and that the Whole. 
That counterworks each folly and caprice; 

240 That disappoints th' effect of every vice ; 
That, happy frailties to all ranks applied, 
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief. 
To kings presumption, and to crowds belief: 

245 That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise. 
Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise; 
And build on wants, and on defects of mind, 
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 
Heav'n forming each on other to depend, 



^.V ESSAY ON MAN 45 

A master, or a servant, or a friend, 250 

Bids each on other for assistance call, 

Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. 

Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 

The common interest, or endear the tie. 

To these we owe true friendship, love sincere, 255 

Each home-felt joy that life inherits here; 

Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, 

Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign; 

Taught, half by Reason, half by mere decay, 

To welcome Death, and calmly pass away. 260 

Whate'er the passion — knowledge, fame or pelf — 
Not one will change his neighbour with himself. 
The learn'd is happy Nature to explore. 
The fool is happy that he knows no more; 
The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n, 265 

The poor contents him with the care of Heav'n. 
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, 
The sot a hero, lunatic a king. 
The starving chymist° in his golden views 
Supremely bless'd, the poet in his Muse. 270 

See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, 
And Pride bestow'd on all, a common friend: 
See some fit passion every age supply ; 
Hope travels thro', nor quits us when we die. 

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,° 275 

Pleas 'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw : 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite : 
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage. 
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age : 280 

Pleas 'd with this bauble still, as that before. 



46 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. 
Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays 

Those painted clouds that beautify our days; 
285 Each want of happiness by Hope supplied, 

And each vacuity of sense by Pride : 

These build as fast as Knowledge can destroy; 

In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble joy; 

One prospect lost, another still we gain, 
290 And not a vanity is giv'n in vain : 

Ev'n mean Self-love becomes, by force divine, 

The scale to measure others' wants by thine. 

See ! and confess one comfort still must rise ; 

'Tis this. Though Man's a fool, yet God is idse. 



EPISTLE III 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO 

SOCIETY 

Here then we rest : — ' The Universal Cause 
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.' 
In all the madness of superfluous Health, 
The trim of Pride, the impudence of Wealth, 

5 Let this great truth be present night and day : 
But most be present, if we preach or pray. 

I. Look round our world; behold the chain of love 
Combining all below and all above. 
See plastic Nature working to this end, 

10 The single atoms each to other tend, 
Attract, attracted to, the next in place, 
Form'd and impell'd its neighbour to embrace. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 47 

See matter next, with various life endued, 

Press to one centre still, the gen'ral good : 

See dying vegetables life sustain, 15 

See life dissolving vegetate again. 

All forms that perish other forms supply 

(By turns we catch the vital breath, and die), 

Lfike bubbles on the sea of Matter borne. 

They rise, they break, and to that sea return. 20 

Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; 

One all-extending, all-preserving, soul 

Connects each being, greatest with the least; 

Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; 

All serv'd, all serving : nothing stands alone ; 25 

The chain holds on, and where it ends unknown. 

Has God, thou fool ! work'd solely for thy good, 
Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food? 
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn. 
For him as kindly spreads the flower}^ lawn. ' 3° 

Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings ? 
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? 
Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. 
The bounding steed you pompously bestride 35 

Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. 
Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain ? 
The birds of Heav'n shall vindicate their grain. 
Thine the full harvest of the golden year ? 
Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer. 4° 

The hog that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call, 
Lives on the labours of this lord of all. 

Know Nature's children all divide her care; 
The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear. 



48 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

45 While Man exclaims, ' See all things for my use ! ' 
' See man for mine ! ' replies a pamper'd goose : 
And just as short of Reason he must fall, 
Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 
Grant that the pow'rful still the weak control; 

so Be Man the wit and tyrant of the whole : 
Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, 
And helps, another creature's wants and woes. 
Say will the falcon, stooping from above, 
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? 

55 Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? 
Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings ? — 
Man cares for all : to birds he gives his woods, 
To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods. 
For some his Int'rest prompts him to provide, 

6o For more his Pleasure, yet for more his Pride : 
All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 
Th' extensive blessing of his luxury. 
That very life his learned hunger craves. 
He saves from famine, from the savage saves; 

65 Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast. 
And till he ends the being makes it blest ; 
Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain, 
Than favour'd man° by touch ethereal slain. 
The creature had his feast of life before; 

70 Thou too must perish when thy feast is o'er ! 
To each unthinking being, Heav'n, a friend, 
Gives not the useless knowledge of its end : 
To man imparts it, but with such a view 
As while he dreads it, makes him hope it too; 

75 The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear. 
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 49 

Great standing miracle ! that Heav'n assign'd 
Its only thinking thing this turn of mind. 

II. Whether with Reason or with Instinct blest, 
Know all enjoy that power which suits them best; 80 

To bliss alike by that direction tend, 
And find the means proportion 'd to their end. 
Say, where full Instinct is th' unerring guide. 
What Pope or Council can they need beside ? 
Reason, however able, cool at best, 85 

Cares not for service, or but serves when prest, 
Stays till we call, and then not often near; 
But honest Instinct comes a volunteer. 
Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit. 
While still too wide or short is human wit; 90 

Sure by quick Nature happiness to gain. 
Which heavier Reason labours at in vain. 
This, too, serves always; Reason, never long; 
One must go right, the other may go wrong. 
See then the acting and comparing powers 95 

One in their nature, which are two in ours; 
And Reason raise o'er Instinct as you can, 
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis Man. 

Who taught the nations of the field and wood 
To shun their poison and to choose their food ? 100 

Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand. 
Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand ? 
Who made the spider parallels design, 
Sure as Demoi\Te,° without rule or line ? 
Who bade the stork, Columbus-like, explore 105 

Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before? 
Who calls the council, states the certain day, 
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way ? 



50 AN ESSAY ON 31 AN 

III. God in the nature of each being founds 

no Its proper bhss, and sets its proper bounds; 
But as he framed a whole the whole to bless, 
On mutual wants built mutual happiness : 
So from the first eternal order ran, 
And creature link'd to creature, man to man. 

115 Whate'er of life all-quick'ning ether keeps, 

Or breathes thro' air, or shoots beneath the deeps, 
Or pours profuse on earth, one Nature feeds 
The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds. 
Not man alone, but all that roam the wood, 

120 Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood. 
Each loves itself, but not itself alone. 
Each sex desires alike, till two are one. 
Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce embrace : 
They love themselves a third time in their race. 

125 Thus beast and bird their common charge attend. 
The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend; 
The young dismiss 'd to wander earth or air. 
There stops the instinct, and there ends the care; 
The link dissolves, each seeks a fresh embrace, 

130 Another love succeeds, another race. 

A longer care man's helpless kind demands; 
That longer care contracts more lasting bands : 
Reflection, Reason, still the ties improve, 
At once extend the int'rest and the love; 

135 With choice we fix, with sympathy we burn; 
Each virtue in each passion takes its turn; 
And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise, 
That graft benevolence on charities. 
Still as one brood and as another rose, 

140 These natural love maintain 'd, habitual those: 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 51 

The last, scarce ripen'd into perfect man, 

Saw helpless him from whom their life began : 

Mem'ry and forecast just returns engage, 

That pointed back to youth, this on to age; 

While pleasure, gratitude, and hope, combin'd, 145 

Still spread the interest, and preserved the kind. 

IV. Nor think in Nature's state they blindly trod; 
The state of Nature was the reign of God : 
Self-love and Social at her birth began. 
Union the bond of all things, and of Man; 150 

Pride then was not, nor arts, that pride to aid ; 
Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the shade; 
The same his table, and the same his bed; 
No murder clothed him, and no murder fed. 
In the same temple, the resounding wood, 155 

All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God : 
The shrine with gore unstain'd, with gold undrest, 
Unbribed, unbloody, stood the blameless priest: 
Heav'n's attribute was universal care. 
And man's prerogative to rule, but spare. 160 

Ah ! how unlike the man of times to come ! 
Of half that live the butcher and the tomb ; 
Who, foe to Nature, hears the gen'ral groan, 
Murders their species, and betrays his own. 
But just disease to luxury succeeds, 165 

And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds; 
The fury-passions from that blood began, 
And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, man. 

See him from Nature rising slow to Art ! 
To copy Instinct then was Reason's part : 170 

Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake — 
'Go, from the creatures thy instructions take: 



52 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield, 

Learn from the beasts the physic of the field ; 
175 Thy arts of building from the bee receive ; 

Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave; 

Learn of the little nautilus to sail, 

Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale. 

Here too all forms of social union find, 
180 And hence let Reason late instruct mankind. 

Here subterranean works and cities see; 

There towns aerial on the waving tree; 

Learn each small people's genius, policies, 

The ants' republic, and the realm of bees: 
185 How those in common all their wealth bestow, 

And anarchy without confusion know; 

And these for ever, tho' a monarch reign. 

Their sep'rate cells and properties maintain. 

Mark what unvaried laws preserve each state, 
190 Laws wise as Nature, and as fix'd as Fate. 

In vain thy Reason finer webs shall draw. 

Entangle justice in her net of law. 

And right, too rigid, harden into wrong, 

Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong. 
195 Yet go ! and thus o'er all the creatures sway, 

Thus let the wiser make the rest obey ; 

And for those arts mere Instinct could afford. 

Be crown'd as Monarchs, or as Gods ador'd.' 
V. Great Nature spoke; observant man obey'd; 
200 Cities were built, societies were made: 

Here rose one little state; another near 

Grew by like means, and join'd thro' love or fear. 

Did here the trees with ruddier burdens bend. 

And there the streams in purer rills descend ? 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 53 

What war could ravish, commerce could bestow, 205 

And he returned a friend who came a foe. 

Converse and love mankind might strongly draw, 

When Love was liberty, and Nature law. 

Thus states were form'd, the name of King unknown, 

Till common int'rest placed the sway in one. 210 

Twas Virtue only (or in arts or arms, 

Diffusing blessings, or averting harms), 

The same which in a sire the sons obey'd, 

A prince the father of a people made. 

VI. Till then, by Nature crown'd, each patriarch sate 215 
King, priest, and parent of his growing state; 
On him, their second Providence, they hung. 
Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue. 
He from the wond'ring furrow call'd the food. 
Taught to command the fire, control the flood, 220 

Draw forth the monsters of th' abyss profound, 
Or fetch th' aerial eagle to the ground ; 
Till drooping, sick'ning, dying, they began 
Whom they revered as God to mourn as Man : 
Then, looking up from sire to sire, explored 225 

One great first Father, and that first ador'd : 
Or plain tradition that this all begun. 
Convey 'd unbroken faith from sire to son; 
The worker from the work distinct was known. 
And simple Reason never sought but one. 230 

Ere Wit oblique had broke that steady light, 
Man, like his Maker, saw that all was right; 
To virtue in the paths of pleasure trod, 
And own'd a father when he own'd a God. 
Love all the faith, and all th' allegiance then, 235 

For Nature knew no right divine in men; 



54 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

No ill could fear in God, and understood 
A sov'reign being but a sov'reign good; 
True faith, true policy, united ran; 

240 That was but love of God, and this of Man. 

Who first taught souls enslaved, and realms undone, 
Th' enormous faith of many made for one ; 
That proud exception to all Nature's laws, 
T' invert the world, and counterwork its cause ? 

245 Force first made conquest, and that conquest law; 
Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe. 
Then shared the tyranny, then lent it aid, 
And Gods of conquerors, Slaves of subjects made. 
She, 'midst the lightning's blaze and thunder's sound, 

250 When rock'd the mountains, and w^hen groan'd the 
ground. 
She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray, 
To Power unseen, and mightier far than they : 
She, from the rending earth and bursting skies, 
Saw Gods descend, and Fiends infernal rise : 

255 Here fix'd the dreadful, there the bless'd abodes; 
Fear made her Devils, and weak hope her Gods; 
Gods, partial, changeful, passionate, unjust. 
Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or lust; 
Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, 

260 And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe. 
Zeal then, not Charity, became the guide. 
And Hell was built on spite, and Heav'n on pride: 
Then sacred seem'd th' ethereal vault no more; 
Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore: 

265 Then first the flamen tasted living food. 

Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood ; 
With Heav'n's own thunders shook the world below, 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 55 

And play'd the God an engine on his foe. 

So drives Self-love thro' just and thro' unjust. 
To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust : 270 

The same Self-love in all becomes the cause 
Of what restrains him, government and laws. 
For, what one likes if others like as well. 
What serves one will, when many wills rebel? 
How shall he keep what, sleeping or awake, 275 

A weaker may surprise, a stronger take ? 
His safety must his liberty restrain : 
All join to guard what each desires to gain. 
Forc'd into virtue thus by self-defence, 
Ev'n kings learn'd justice and benevolence: 280 

Self-love forsook the path it first pursued, 
And found the private in the public good. 

'Twas then the studious head, or gen'rous mind 
Follower of God, or friend of human kind, 
Poet or patriot, rose but to restore 285 

The faith and moral Nature gave before; 
Relumed her ancient light, not kindled new; 
If not God's image, yet his shadow drew; 
Taught power's due use to people and to kings. 
Taught nor to slack nor strain its tender strings, 290 

The less or greater set so justly true, 
That touching one must strike the other too; 
Till jarring int 'rests of themselves create 
Th' according music of a well-mix'd state. 
Such is the world's great harmony, that springs 295 

From order, union, full coiLsent of things; 
Where small and great, where weak and mighty made 
To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade; 
More powerful each as needful to the rest. 



56 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

300 And, in proportion as it blesses, blest; 

Draw to one point, and to one centre bring 

Beast, man, or angel, servant, lord, or king. 

For forms of government let fools contest; 

Whate'er is best administered is best : 
305 For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 

His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. 

In Faith and Hope the world will disagree, 

But all mankind's concern is Charity: 

All must be false that thwart this one great end, 
310 And all of God that bless mankind or mend. 
Man, like the gen'rous vine, supported lives; 

The strength he gains is from th' embrace he gives. 

On their own axis as the planets run. 

Yet make at once their circle round the sun; 
315 So two consistent motions act the soul. 

And one regards itself, and one the Whole. 

Thus God and Nature link'd the gen'ral frame, 

And bade Self-love and Social be the same. 



EPISTLE IV 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN, WITH RE- 
SPECT TO HAPPINESS 

O Happiness ! our being's end and aim ! 
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content ! whate'er thy name. 
That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh. 
For which we bear to live, or dare to die; 
5 Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise: 



^.V ESSAY ON MAN 57 

Plant of celestial seed ! if dropt below, 

Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ? 

Fair opening to some court's propitious shine, 

Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? lo 

Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, 

Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? 

Where grows ? — where grows it not ? If vain our toil, 

We ought to blame the culture, not the soil : 

Fix'd to no spot is Happiness sincere; 15 

'Tis nowhere to be found, or ev'rywhere: 

'Tis never to be bought, but always free. 

And fled from monarchs, St. John ! dwells with thee. 

I. Ask of the Learn'd the way ? the Learn'd are blind, 
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind : 20 
Some place the bliss in Action, some in Ease, 

Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment these; 

Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in Pain ; 

Some sweird to Gods, confess ev'n Virtue vain; 

Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, 25 

To trust in everything, or doubt of all.° 

Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, that happiness is happiness? 

II. Take Nature's path and mad Opinion's leave; 

All states can reach it, and all heads conceive ; 3° 

Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; 
There needs but thinking right and meaning well : 
And, mourn our various portions as we please, 
Equal is common sense and common ease. 

Remember, Man, ' the Universal Cause 35 

Acts not by partial but by general laws,' 
And makes what Happiness we justly call 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 



58 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

There's not a blessing individuals find, 

40 But some way leans and hearkens to the kind ; 
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride, 
No cavern'd hermit, rests self-satisfied; 
Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend, 
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend. 

45 Abstract what others feel, what others think, 
All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink : 
Each has his share; and who would more obtain, 
Shall find the pleasure pays not half the pain. 
Order is Heav'n's first law; and, this confest, 

so Some are and must be greater than the rest, 
More rich, more wise : but who infers from hence 
That such are happier, shocks all common sense. 
Heav'n to mankind impartial we confess, 
If all are equal in their happiness : 

55 But mutual wants this happiness increase ; 
All Nature's diff'rence keeps all Nature's peace. 
Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; 
Bliss is the same in subject or in king. 
In who obtain defence, or who defend, 

60 In him who is, or him who finds a friend: 
Heav'n breathes thro' every member of the whole 
One common blessing, as one common soul. 
But Fortune's gifts, if each alike possest, 
And each were equal, must not all contest? 

65 If then to all men happiness was meant, 
God in externals could not place content. 

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose. 
And these be happy call'd, unhappy those; 
But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear, 

70 While those are placed in hope and these in fear: 



Ay ESSAY OX MAN 59 

Not present good or ill the joy or curse, 
But future views cf better or of worse. 

O sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise 
By mountains piled on mountains to the skies° ? 
Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 75 

And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 

III. Know all the good that individuals find, 
Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind, 
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
Lie in three words — Health, Peace, and Competence. 80 
But health consists with temperance alone. 
And peace, O Virtue ! peace is all thy own. 
The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain ; 
But these less taste them as they worse obtain. 
Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, 85 

Wiio risk the most, that take wrong means or right ? 
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst. 
Which meets contempt, or which compassion first ? 
Count all th' advantage prosp'rous vice attains, 
Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains : 9° 

And grant the bad what happiness they would, 
One they must want, which is, to pass for good. 

O blind to truth and God's whole scheme below, 
Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe ! 
Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, 95 

Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. 
But fools the good alone unhappy call, 
For ills or accidents that chance to all. 
See Falkland^ dies, the virtuous and the just ! 
See Godlike Turenne" prostrate on the dust ! 100 

See Sidney° bleeds amid the martial strife ! — 
Was this their virtue, or contempt of life ? 



60 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Say, was it virtue, more tho' Heav'n ne'er gave, 

Lamented Digby° ! sunk thee to the grave ? 
105 Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, 

Why full of days and honour lives the sire ? 

Why drew Marseilles'° good bishop purer breath 

When Nature sicken'd, and each gale was death? 

Or why so long (in life if long can be) 
no Lent Heav'n a parent° to the poor and me? 
What makes all physical or moral ill ? 

There deviates Nature,. and here wanders Will. 

God sends not ill, if rightly understood, 

Or partial ill is universal good, 
115 Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall. 

Short and but rare till man improved it all. 

We just as wisely might of Heav'n complain 

That Righteous Abel was destroy 'd by Cain, 

As that the virtuous son is ill at ease 
120 When his lewd father gave the dire disease. 

Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal Cause 

Prone for his fav'rites to reverse his laws ? 

IV. Shall burning ^Etna, if a sage° requires, 
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires ? 

125 On air or sea new motions be imprest, 

O blameless Bethel° ! to relieve thy breast ? 

When the loose mountain trembles from on high, 

Shall gravitation cease if you go by ? 

Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, 
130 For Chartres'° head reserve the hanging wall ? 

V. But still this world, so fitted for the knave, 
Contents us not. — A better shall we have ? 

A kingdom of the just then let it be; 
But first consider how those just agree. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 61 

The good must merit God's peculiar care; 135 

But who but God can tell us who they are ? 

One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own spirit fell; 

Another deems him instrument of Hell : 

If Calvin feel Heav'n's blessing or its rod, 

This cries there is, and that, there is no God. 140 

What shocks one part will edify the rest; 

Nor with one S3^stem can they all be blest. 

The very best will variously incline, 

And what rewards your virtue punish mine. 

Whatever is, is right. — This world, 'tis true, 145 

Was made for Caesar — but for Titus° too : 

And which more bless'd ? who chain'd his country, say, 

Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day ? 

VL 'But sometimes Virtue starves while Vice is fed.' 
What then ? is the reward of virtue bread ? 150 

That vice may merit ; 'tis the price of toil ; 
The knave deserves it when he tills the soil, 
The knave deserves it when he tempts the main, 
Where Folly fights for kings or dives for gain. 
The good man may be weak, be indolent; 15s 

Nor is his claim to plenty but content. 
But grant him riches, your demand is o'er. 
' No : shall the good want health, the good want power ? ' 
Add health and power, and every earthly thing. 
' Why bounded power ? why private ? why no king ? 160 
Nay, why external for internal giv'n ? 
Why is not man a God, and earth a Heav'n?' 
Who ask and reason thus will scarce conceive 
God gives enough while he has more to give : 
Immense the power, immense were the demand; 165 

Say at what part of Nature will they stand ? 



62 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy, 
Is Virtue's prize. A better would you fix ? 

170 Then give humility a coach and six, 

Justice a conqueror's sword, or truth a gown, 
Or public spirit its great cure, a crown. 
Weak, foolish man ! will Heav'n reward us there 
With the same trash mad mortals wish for here ? 

175 The boy and man an individual makes. 

Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes? 
Go, like the Indian, in another life 
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife; 
As well as dream such trifles are assign 'd, 

180 As toys and empires, for a godlike mind : 
Rewards, that either would to Virtue bring 
No joy, or be destructive of the thing: 
How oft by these at sixty are undone 
The virtues of a saint at twenty-one ! 

185 To whom can Riches give repute or trust, 
Content or pleasure, but the good and just ? 
Judges and senates have been bought for gold, 
Esteem and Love were never to be sold. 
O fool ! to think God hates the worthy mind, 

190 The lover and the love of humankind, 

Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, 
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year. 
Honour and shame from no condition rise; 
Act w^ell your part : there all the honour lies. 

195 Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made; 
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade. 
The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd; 
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 63 

'What differ more/ you cry, 'than crown and cowl?' 

I'll tell you, friend ! a wise man and a fool. 200 

You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, 

Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, 

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow, 

The rest is all but leather or prunella. 

Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with strings, 205 
That thou mayst be by kings, or whores of kings. 
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race. 
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece : 
But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate. 
Count me those only who were good and great. 210 

Go ! if your ancient but ignoble blood 
Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood, 
Go ! and pretend your family is young. 
Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ? 215 

Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards ° 

Look next on Greatness : say where Greatness lies. 
' Where but among the heroes and the wise ? ' 
Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed. 
From Macedonia's madman° to the Swede°; 220 

The whole strange purpose of their lives to find, 
Or make, an enemy of all mankind ! 
Not one looks backward, onward still he goes. 
Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose. 
No less alike the politic and wise; 225 

AH sly slow things with circumspective eyes : 
Men in their loose unguarded hours they take. 
Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. 
But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat : 
'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great. 230 



64 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 

Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 

Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 

Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
235 Like good Aurelius° let him reign, or bleed 

Like Socrates° : — that man is great indeed ! 
What's fame? a fancied life in others' breath; 

A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. 

Just what you hear you have ; and what's unknown 
240 The same, my lord, if Tully's or your own. 

All that we feel of it begins and ends 

In the small circle of our foes or friends; 

To all beside as much an empty shade, 

An Eugene^ living as a Caesar dead; 
245 Alike or when or where, they shone or shine, 

Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine. 

A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod; 

An Honest Man's the noblest work of God. 

Fam.e but from death a villain's name can save, 
250 As Justice tears his body from the grave ; 

When what t' oblivion better were resign 'd 

Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. 

All fame is foreign but of true desert. 

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: 
255 One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 

Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas : 

And more true joy Marcellus° exiled feels 

Than Cnesar with a senate at his heels. 
In Parts superior what advantage lies ? 
260 Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise ? 

'Tis but to know how little can be known, 

To see all others' faults, and feel our own : 



AN ESSAY ON 31 AN 65 

Condemn'cl in bus'ness or in arts to drudge, 

Without a second, or without a judge. 

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 265 

All fear, none aid vou, and few understand. 

Painful preeminence ! yourself to view 

Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 

Bring then these blessings to a strict account; 
Make fair deductions ; see to what they mount ; 270 

How much of other each is sure to cost; 
How much for other oft is wholly lost ; 
How inconsistent greater goods with these ; 
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease. 
Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 275 

Say, wouldst thou be the man to whom they fall ? 
To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra° or Sir Billy. 
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life ? 

Look but on Gripus or on Gripus' wife. 280 

If parts allure thee, think how Bacon° shined, 
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind ! 
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name. 
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame ! 
If all united thy ambition call, 285 

From ancient story learn to scorn them all : 
There in the rich, the honour 'd, famed, and great, 
See the false scale of Happiness complete ! 
In hearts of Kings or arms of Queens who lay, 
How happy those to ruin, these betray. 290 

Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, 
From dirt and sea- weed, as proud Venice rose; 
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran, 
And all that rais'd the Hero sunk the Man: 



66 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

295 Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold, 

But stain'd with blood, or ill-exchanged for gold; 

Then see them broke with toils, or sunk in ease, 

Or infamous for plunder'd provinces. 

O wealth ill-fated ! which no act of fame 
300 E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame! 

What greater bliss attends their close of life° ? 

Some greedy minion, or imperious wife, 

The trophied arches, storied halls invade, 

And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade. 
305 Alas ! not dazzled with their noontide ray. 

Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day; 

The whole amount of that enormous fame, 

A tale that blends their glory with their shame ! 

VII. Know then this truth (enough for man to know), 
310' Virtue alone is happiness below;' 

The only point where human bliss stands still, 

And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; 

Where gnly merit constant pay receives, 

Is bless'd in what it takes and what it gives; - 
315 The joy unequall'd if its end it gain. 

And, if it lose, attended with no pain; 

Without satiety, tho' e'er so bless'd, 

And but more relish'd as the more distressed : 

The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears, 
320 Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears : 

Good from each object, from each place acquired, 

For ever exercised, yet never tired; 

Nevel" elated while one man's oppress'd; 

Never dejected while another's bless'd: 
325 And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 

Since but to wish more virtue is to gain. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 67 

See the sole bliss Heav'n could on all bestow ! 
Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know : 
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, 
The bad must miss, the good untaught will find : 330 

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
But looks thro' Nature up to Nature's God; 
Pursues that chain which links th' immense design, 
Joins Heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine; 
Sees that no being any bliss can know, 335 

But touches some above and some below; 
Learns from this union of the rising whole 
The first, last purpose of the human soul ; 
And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, 
All end, in love of God and love of Man. 340 

For him alone Hope leads from goal to goal, 
And opens still and opens on his soul, 
Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfin'd. 
It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. 
He sees why Nature plants in man alone 345 

Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown 
(Nature, whose dictates to no other kind 
Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find) : 
Wise is her present; she connects in this 
His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; 350 

At once his own bright prospect to be blest. 
And strongest motive to assist the rest. 

Self-love thus push'd to social, to Divine, 
Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. 
Is this too little for the boundless heart ? . 355 

Extend it, let thy enemies have part: 
Grasp the whole world of reason, life, and sense. 
In one close system of benevolence : 



68 AN ESSAY ON MAN 

Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 
360 And height of Bhss but height of Charity. 

God loves from whole to parts : but human soul 

Must rise from individual to the whole. 

Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 
365 The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds. 

Another still, and still another spreads; 

Friends, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; 

His country next ; and next all human race ; 

Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind 
370 Take ev'ry creature in of ev'ry kind: 

Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 

And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast. 

Come then, my Friend° ! my Genius ! come along, 

O master of the poet and the song ! 
375 And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, 

To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, 

Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, 

To fall with dignity, with temper rise: 

Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer 
380 From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 

Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, 

Intent to reason, or polite to please. 

O ! while along the stream of time thy name 

Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, 
385 Say, shall my little bark attendant sail. 

Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? 

When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, 

Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes. 

Shall then this verse to future age pretend 
390 Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend ? 



AN ESSAY OK MAN 09 

That, urged by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art 

From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart: 

For Wit's false mirror held up Nature's light, 

Show'd erring pride. Whatever is, is right; 

That Reason, Passion, answer one great aim; 395 

That true Self-love and Social are the same; 

That Virtue only makes our bliss below, 

And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

(1709) 
PART I 

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill 

Appear in writing or in judging ill; 

But of the two less dangerous is th' offence 

To tire our patience than mislead our sense° : 
5 Some few in that, but numbers err in this; 

Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss; 

A fool might once himself alone expose; 

Now one in verse makes many more in prose. 
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none 
loGo just alike, yet each believes his own. 

In Poets as true Genius is but rare, 

True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share; 

Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light, 

These born to judge, as well as those to write. 
15 Let such° teach others who themselves excel, 

And censure freely who have written well; 

Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, 

But are not Critics to their judgment too? 
Yet if we look more closely, we shall find 
2oMost° have the seeds of judgment in their mind: 

Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light; 

The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right 

70 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 71 

But as the sliglitest sketch, if justly traced, ] 

Is by ill col 'ring but the more disgraced, I 

So by false learning is good sense defaced : J 

Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,° 25 

And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools : 

In search of wit these lose their common sense, 

And then turn Critics in their own defence : 

Each burns alike, w4io can or cannot write, 30 

Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite. 

All fools have still an itching to deride, 

And fain would be upon the laughing side. 

If Msevius° scribble in Apollo 's° spite. 

There are who° judge still worse than he can write. 35 

Some have at first for Wits,° then Poets pass'd; 
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last. 
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass. 
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass. 
Those half-learn 'd witlings, numerous in our isle, 40 

As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile; 
Unfinish'd things, one knows not w^hat to call, 
Their generation's° so equivocal ; 
To tell them would a hundred tongues require, 
Or one vain Wit's, that might a hundred tire. 45 

But you who seek to give and merit fame. 
And justly bear a Critic's noble name. 
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know, 
How^ far your Genius, Taste, and Learning go, 
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet, 5° 

And mark that point where Sense and Dulness meet. 

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit, 
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit. 
As on the land while here the ocean gains, 



72 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

55 In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; 
Thus in the soul while Memory prevails, 
The solid power of Understanding fails; 
Where beams of warm Imagination play, 
The Memory's soft figures melt away. 

60 One Science only will one genius fit ; 
So vast is Art, so narrow human wit : 
Not only bounded to peculiar arts, 
But oft in those confin'd to single parts. 
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before, 

65 By vain ambition still to make them more : 
Each might his sev'ral° province well command, 
Would all but stoop to what they understand. 

First follow Nature, and your judgment frame 
By her just standard, which is still the same; 

70 Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, 
One clear, unchanged, and universal light. 
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart, ° 
At once the source, and end, and test of Art.° 
Art from that fund each just supply provides, 

75 Works without show, and without pomp presides. 
In some fair body thus th' informing soul 
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole; 
Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains, 
Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains. 

80 Some, to whom Heav'n in wit° has been profuse, 
Want as much more to turn it to its use; 
For Wit and Judgment often are at strife, 
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife. 
'Tis more to guide° than spur the Muse's steed, 

85 Restrain his fury than provoke his speed : 
The winged courser,° like a gen'rous horse. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 73 

Shows most true mettle when you check his course. 

Those rules of old, discover'd, not devised, 
Are Nature still, but Nature methodized; 
Nature, like Libe^xcy, is but re^liaia'd 90 

By the same laws which first herself ordain 'd. 

Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites° 
When to repress and when indulge our flights : 
High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd, 
And pointed out those arduous paths they trod; 95 

Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize. 
And urged the rest by equal steps to rise. 
Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n, 
She drew from them what they derived from Heav'n. 
The gen'rous Critic fann'd the poet's fire, 100 

And taught the world with reason to admire. 
Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd, 
To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd : 
But following Wits from that intention stray 'd : 
Who could not win the mistress woo'd the maid; 105 

Against the Poets their own arms they turn'd. 
Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd. 
So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art 
By doctors' bills° to play the doctor's part. 
Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, no 

Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. 
Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey ; 
Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they; 
Some drily plain, without invention's aid, 
Write dull receipts how poems may be made; us 

These leave the sense their learning to display. 
And those explain the meaning quite away. 

You then whose judgment the right course would steer. 



T-l AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

Know "well each ancient's proper character; 

i2oHis fable,^ subject, scope in every page; 
ReUgion, country, genius of his age : 
Without all these at once before your sy.f's, 
Cavil you may, but never criticise. 
Be Homer's works your study and delight, 

125 Read them by day, and meditate by night; 

Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring, 
And trace the Muses upward to their spring. 
Still with itself compared, his text peruse; 
And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.° 

130 When first young Maro in his boundless mind 
A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, 
Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law. 
And but° from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw; 
But when t' examine ev'ry part he came, 

13s Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. 
Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design, 1 
And rules as strict his labour'd work confine \ 
As if the Stagyrite° o'erlook'd each line. J 

Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; 

140 To copy Nature is to copy them. 

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, 
For there's a happiness° as well as care. 
Music resembles poetry ; in each 1 

Are nameless graces which no methods teach, \ 

145 And which a master-hand alone can reach. J 
If, where the rules not far enough extend, 
(Since rules were made but to promote their end) 
Some lucky license answer to the full 
Th' intent proposed, that license is a rule. 

150 Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, 



^.y ESSAY 03^ CRITICISM 75 

May boldly deviate from the common track. 

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, 

And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend ; 

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, 

And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art, 155 

Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains 

The heart, and all its end at once attains. 

In prospects° thus some objects please our eyes, ] 

Which out of Nature's common order rise, I 

The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. J i6c 

But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade, 

(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made) 

Moderns, beware ! or if you must offend 

Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end; 

Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need; 165 

And have at least their precedent to plead; 

The Critic else proceeds without remorse. 

Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force. 

I know there are to whose presumptuous thoughts 
Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults. 170 

Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear, 
Consider'd singly, or beheld too near. 
Which, but proportion'd to their light or place, 
Due distance reconciles to form and grace. 
A prudent chief not always must display 175 

His powers in equal ranks and fair array, 
But with th' occasion and the place comply. 
Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly. 
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, 
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. 180 

Still green with bays each ancient altar stands 
Above the reach of sacrilegious hands,° 



76 ^^V ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

Secure from flames, from Envy's fiercer rage, 
Destructive war, and all-involving Age. 

185 See from each clime the learn'd their incense bring ! 
Hear in all tongues consenting paeans ring ! 
In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd, 
And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind. 
Hail, Bards triumphant ! born in happier days, 

190 Immortal heirs of universal praise ! 

Whose honours with increase of ages grow, 
As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow; 
Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, 
And worlds applaud that must not yet be found ! 

195 may some spark of your celestial fire 
The last, the meanest of your sons inspire, 
(That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights, 
Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) 
To teach vain Wits a science little known, 

200 T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own. 



PART II 

Of all the causes which conspire to blind 
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, 
What the weak head with strongest bias rules, 
Is Pride, the never-failing vice of fools. 

5 Whatever Nature has in worth denied 
She gives in large recruits of needful Pride : 
For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find 
What wants in blood and spirits swell 'd with wind 
Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defence, 

10 And fills up all the mighty void of Sense : 



AN ESSAY OX CRITICISM 77 

If once right Reason drives that cloud away, 
Truth breaks upon us with resistless day. 
Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, 
Make use of ev'ry friend — and ev'ry foe. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing; 15 

Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian° spring : 
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain. 
And drinking largely sobers us again. 
Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts. 
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, 20 

While from the bounded level of our mind 
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind : 
But more ad vane 'd, behold with strange surprise 
New distant scenes of endless science rise ! 
So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we try, 25 

Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; 
Th' eternal snows appear already past, 
And the first clouds and mountains seem the last : 
But those attain'd, we tremble to survey 
The growing labours of the lengthened w^ay; 3° 

Th' increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes. 
Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise ! 

A perfect judge will read each work of wit 
With the same spirit that its author writ ; 
Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to find 35 

Where Nature moves, and Rapture warms the mind : 
Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight, ° 
The gen'rous pleasure to be charm 'd with wit. 
But in such lays as neither ebb nor flow. 
Correctly cold, and regularly low, 40 

That shunning faults one quiet tenor keep, 
We cannot blame indeed — but we may sleep. 



78 ^.V ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

In Wit, as Nature, what affects our hearts 

Is not th' exactness of pecuHar parts; 
45 'Tis not a Hp or eye we beauty call. 

But the joint force and full result of all. 

Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome, 

(The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine,° O Rome !) 

No single parts unequally surprise, 
50 All comes united to th' admiring eyes; 

No monstrous height, or breadth, or length, appear; 

The whole at once is bold and regular. 
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see. 

Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. 
55 In every work regard the writer's end, 

Since none can compass more than they intend; 

And if the means be just, the conduct true, 

Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. 

As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, 
60 T' avoid great errors must the less commit; 

Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays. 

For not to know some trifles is a praise. 

Most critics, fond of some subservient art, 

Still make the whole depend upon a part : 
65 They talk of Principles, but Notions prize, 

And all to one lov'd folly sacrifice. 

Once on a time La Mancha's Knight,° they say, 

A certain bard encount'ring on the way, 

Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as sage, 
70 As e'er could Dennis,"^ of the Grecian Stage; 

Concluding all were desperate sots and fools 

Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules. 

Our author, happy in a judge so nice, 

Produced his play, and begg'd the knight's advice; 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 79 

Made him observe the Subject and the Plot, 75 

The Manners, Passions, Unities; what not? 

All which exact to rule were brought about. 

Were but a combat in the lists left out. 

' What ! leave the combat out ? ' exclaims the knight. 

'Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.' 80 

' Not so, by Heaven ! (he answers in a rage) 

Knights, squires, and steeds must enter on the stage.' 

'So vast a throng the stage can ne'er contain.' 

'Then build a new, or act it in a plain.' 

Thus critics of less judgment than caprice, 85 

Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice,° 
Form short ideas, and offend in Arts 
(As most in Manners), by a love to parts. 

Some to Conceit° alone their taste confine, 
And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at every line; 90 

Pieas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit, 
One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit. 
Poets, like painters, thus unskilhd to trace 
The naked nature and the living grace. 
With gold and jewels cover every part, 95 

And hide with ornaments their want of Art. 
True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd, 
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed; 
Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, 
That gives us back the image of our mind. 100 

As shades more sweetly recommend the light. 
So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit : 
For works may have more wit than does them good, 
As bodies perish thro' excess of blood. 

Others for language all their care express, 105 

And value books, as women men, for dress : 



80 ^.V ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

Their praise is still — the Style is excellent ; 
The Sense they humbly take upon content. ° 
Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, 

no Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 
False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 
Its gaudy colours spreads on every place; 
The face of Nature we no more survey. 
All glares alike, without distinction gay ; 

115 But true expression, like th' unchanging sun, ] 
Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon; I 
It gilds all objects, but it alters none. J 

Expression is the dress of thought, and still 
Appears more decent as more suitable. 

120 A vile Conceit in pompous words express'd 
Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd : 
For diff'rent styles with diff 'rent subjects sort,° 
As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court. 
Some by old words to fame have made pretence, 

125 Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense; 
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, 
Amaze th' unlearn 'd, and make the learned smile; 
Unlucky as Fungoso° in the play. 
These sparks° with awkward vanity display 

130 What the fine gentleman wore 3^esterday ; 
And but so mimic ancient wits at best, 
As apes our grandsires in their doublets drest. 
In words as fashions the same rule will hold, 
Alike fantastic if too new or old : 

135 Be not the first by whom the new are tried. 
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 

But most° by Numbers judge a poet's song. 
And smooth or rough with them is right or wrong. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 81 

In the bright Muse tho' thousand charms conspire, 

Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire; 140 

Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, ] 

Not mend their minds ; as some to church repair, I 

Not for the doctrine, but the music there. J 

These° equal syllables alone require, 

Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire, 145 

While expletives° their feeble aid do join, 

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line : 

While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, 

With sure returns of still expected rhymes; 

Where'er you find ' the cooling western breeze,' 150 

In the next line, it Svhispers thro' the trees;' 

If crystal streams 'with pleasing murmurs creep,' 

The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with ' sleep ; ' 

Then, at the last and only couplet, fraught 

With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, 155 

A needless Alexandrine^ ends the song, 

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. 

Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know 

What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow; 

And praise the easy vigour of a line 160 

Where Denham's° strength and Waller's° sweetness join. 

True ease in writing comes from Art, not Chance, 

As those move easiest who have learn 'd to dance. 

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence; 

The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 165 

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows. 

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 

But when loud surges lash the sounding shore. 

The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. 

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 170 

G 



82 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

The line, too, labours, and the words move slow : 
Not so when swift Camilla^ scours the plain. 
Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main. 
Hear how Timotheus'° varied lays surprise, 

175 And bid alternate passions fall and rise ! 

While at each change the son of Libyan Jove° 
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love; 
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow. 
Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow: 

180 Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found. 
And the world's Victor stood subdued by sound ! 
The power of music all our hearts allow, 
And what Timotheus was is Dryden now. 
Avoid extremes, and shun the fault of such 

185 Who still are pleas 'd too little or too much. 
At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence; 
That always shows great pride or little sense : 
Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best 
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. 

190 Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move ; 
For fools admire, but men of sense approve : 
As things seem large which we thro' mist descry, 
Dulness is ever apt to magnify. 

Some° foreign writers, some our own despise; 

19s The ancients only, or the moderns prize. 
Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is applied 
To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside. 
Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, 
And force that sun but on a part to shine, 

200 Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, 
But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; 
Which from the first has shone on ages past, 



A^'' ESSAY ON CRITICISM 83 

Enlights the present, and shall warm the last; 

Tho' each° may feel increases and decays, 

And see now clearer and now darker days. 205 

Regard not then if wit be old or new, 

But blame the False and value still the True. 

Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own, 
But catch the spreading notion of the town; 
They reason and conclude by precedent, 210 

And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. 
Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then 
Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. 
Of all this servile herd, the worst is he 
That in proud dulness joins with quaHty°; 215 

A constant critic at the great man's board, 
To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord. 
What woful stuff this madrigal would be 
In some starv'd hackney sonneteer or me ! 
But let a lord once own the happy lines, 220 

How the Wit brightens ! how the Style refines ! 
Before his sacred name flies every fault, 
And each exalted stanza teems with thought ! 

The vulgar° thus thro' imitation err, 
As oft the learn'd by being singular; 225 

So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng 
By chance go right, they purposely go wrong. 
So schismatics the plain believers quit, 
And are but damn'd for having too much wit. 
Some praise at morning what they blame at night, 23a 

But always think the last opinion right. 
A Muse by these is like a mistress used, 
This hour she's idolized, the next abused; 
While their weak heads, like towns unfortified, 



84 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

235 'Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side. 
Ask them the cause; they're wiser still they say; 
And still to-morrow's wiser than to-day. 
We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow; 
Our wiser sons no doubt will think us so. 

240 Once school-divines° this zealous isle o'erspread; 
Who knew most sentences^ was deepest read. 
Faith, Gospel, all seem'd made to be disputed, 
And none had sense enough to be confuted. 
Scotists° and Thomists° now in peace remain 

245 Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane. ° 
If Faith itself has diff' rent dresses w^orn, 
What wonder modes in Wit should take their turn? 
Oft, leaving what is natural and fit, 
The current Folly proves the ready Wit; 

250 And authors think their reputation safe. 

Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh. 
Some, valuing those of their own side or mind. 
Still make themselves the measure of mankind : 
Fondly we think we honour merit then, 

255 When we but praise ourselves in other men. 
Parties in wit attend on those of state, 
And public faction doubles private hate. 
Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose. 
In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaux : 

260 But sense survived when merry jests were past; 
For rising merit will buoy up at last. 
Might he return and bless once more our eyes. 
New Blackmores° and new Milbournes° must arise. 
Nay, should great Homer lift his awful head, 

265 Zoilus° again w^ould start up from the dead. 
Envy will Merit as its shade pursue, 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 85 

But like a shadow proves the substance true; 

For envied Wit, hke Sol eclips'd, makes known 

Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own. 

When first that sun too powerful beams displays, 27a 

It draws up vapours which obscure its rays; 

But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way, 

Reflect new glories, and augment the day. 

Be thou the first true merit to befriend; 
His praise is lost who stays till all commend. 275 

Short is the date, alas ! of modern rhymes. 
And 'tis but just to let them live betimes. 
No longer now that Golden Age appears, 
When patriarch wits survived a thousand years° : 
Now length of fame (our second life) is lost, 280 

And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast : 
Our sons their fathers' failing language see. 
And such as Chaucer is shall Dryden be. 
So when the faithful pencil has design'd 
Some bright idea of the master's mind, 285 

Where a new world leaps out at his command, 
And ready Nature waits upon his hand ; 
When the ripe colours soften and unite, 
And sweetly melt into just shade and light; 
When mellowing years their full perfection give, 290 

And each bold figure just begins to live. 
The treach'rous colours the fair art betray. 
And all the bright creation fades away ! 

Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things, 
Atones not for that envy which it brings : 295 

In youth alone its° empty praise we boast. 
But soon the short-lived vanity is lost; 
Like some fair flower the early Spring supplies, 



86 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

That gaily blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies. 
300 What is this Wit, which must our cares employ ? 

The owner's wife that other men enjoy; 

Then most our trouble still when most admired, 

And still the more we give, the more required ; 

Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease^ 
305 Siire some to vex, but never all to please, 

Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun; 

By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone ! 
If Wit so much from Ignorance undergo, 

Ah, let not Learning too commence° its foe ! 
310 Of old those met rewards who could excel. 

And such were prais'd who but endeavour'd well; 

Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due. 

Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too. 

Now they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown 
315 Employ their pains to spurn some others down; 

And while self-love each jealous writer rules. 

Contending wits become the sport of fools ; 

But still the worst with most regret commend. 

For each ill author is as bad a friend. 
320 To what base ends, and by what abject ways, 

Are mortals urged thro' sacred lust of praise ! 

Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast. 

Nor in the critic let the man be lost ! 

Good nature and good sense must ever join; 
325 To err is human, to forgive divine. 

But if in noble minds some dregs remain, 

Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain, 

Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes. 

Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times. 
330 No pardon vile obscenity should find. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 87 

Tho' Wit and Art conspire to move your mind; 

But dulness with obscenity must prove 

As shameful sure as impotence in love. 

In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease 

Sprung the rank weed, and thrived with large increase : 335 

When love was all an easy monarch's° care, 

Seldom at council, never in a war; 

Jilts ruled the state, and statesmen farces writ ; 

Nay wits had pensions, and young lords had wit; 

The Fair sat panting at a courtier's play, 340 

And not a mask went unimprov'd away; 

The modest fan was lifted up no more. 

And virgins smil'd at what they blush 'd before. 

The following license of a foreign reign 

Did all the dregs of bold Socinus° drain; 345 

Then unbelieving priests reform 'd the nation, 

And taught more pleasant methods of salvation ; 

Where Heav'n's free subjects might their rights disput-^, 

Lest God himself should seem too absolute; 

Pulpits their sacred satire learn 'd to spare, 350 

And vice admired to find a flatt'rer there ! 

Encouraged thus, Wit's Titans braved the skies, 

And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies. 

These monsters. Critics ! with your darts engage. 

Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage ! 355 

Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice, 

Will needs mistake an author into vice : 

All seems infected that th' infected spy, 

As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye. 



88 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



PART III 

Learn then what morals Critics ought to show, 

For 'tis but half a judge's task to know. 

'Tis not enough Taste, Judgment, Learning join; 

In all you speak let Truth and Candour shine; 
5 That not alone what to your Sense is due 

All may allow, but seek your friendship too. 
Be silent always when you doubt your Sense, 

And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence. 

Some positive persisting fops we know, 
loWho if once wrong will needs be always so; 

But you with pleasure own your errors past, 

And make each day a critique on the last. 
'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; 

Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do. 
IS Men must be taught as if you taught them not, 

And things unknown proposed as things forgot. 

Without good breeding truth is disapprov'd; 

That only makes superior Sense belov'd. 
Be niggards of advice on no pretence, 
20 For the worst avarice is that of Sense. 

With mean complacence ne'er betray your trust, 

Nor be so civil as to prove unjust. 

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; 

Those best can bear reproof who merit praise. 
25 'Twere well might critics still this freedom take, 

But Appius° reddens at each word you speak, 

And stares tremendous, wdth a threat 'ning eye, 

Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry. 

Fear most to tax an honourable fool. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 89 

Whose right it is, uncensured to be dull : 30 

Such without Wit, are poets when they please, 

As without Learning they can take degrees. 

Leave dangerous truths to unsuccessful satires, 

And flattery to fulsome dedicators; 

Whom, when they praise, the w^orld believes no more 35 

Than when they promise to give scribbling o'er. 

'Tis best sometimes your censure to restrain, 

And charitably let the dull be vain; 

Your silence there is better than your spite, 

For who can rail so long° as they can write ? 40 

Still humming on their drowsy course they keep, 

And lash'd so long, like tops, are lash'd asleep. 

False steps but help them to renew the race. 

As, after stumbling, jades will mend their pace. 

What crowds of these, impenitently bold, 45 

In sounds and jingling syllables grown old, 

Still run on poets, in a raging vein, 

Ev'n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain. 

Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense, 

And rhyme with all the rage of impotence ! 50 

Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true 
There are as mad abandon'd critics too. 
The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, 
With loads of learned lumber in his head. 
With his own tongue still edifies his ears, 55 

And always list'ning to himself appears. 
All books he reads, and all he reads assails, 
From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's° Tales. 
With him most authors steal their works, or buy ; 
Garth° did not write his own Dispensary. 60 

Name a new play, and he's the poet's friend ; 



90 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

Nay, showed his faults — but when would poets mend ? 

No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, 

Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's churchyard°: 
65 Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead; 

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread. 

Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks, 1 

It still looks home, and short excursions makes; I 

But rattling nonsense in full volley breaks J 

70 And never shock'd, and never turn'd aside, 

Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring tide. 
But where 's the man who counsel can bestow, 

Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know ? 

Unbiass'd or by favour or by spite; 
75 Not dully prepossess'd nor blindly right ; 

Tho' learn'd, well bred, and tho' well bred sincere; 

Modestly bold, and humanly severe; 

Who to a friend his faults can freely show, 

And gladly praise the merit of a foe; 
80 Bless'd with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd, 

A knowledge both of books and humankind ; 

Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from pride; 

And love to praise, with reason on his side? 

Such once were critics; such the happy few 
8s Athens and Rome in better ages knew. 

The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore. 

Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore; 

He steer'd securely, and discover'd far, 

Led by the light of the M3eonian° star. 
90 Poets, a race long unconfin'd and free. 

Still fond and proud of savage liberty, 

Receiv'd his laws, and stood con vine 'd 'tw^as fit 

Who conquer 'd Nature should preside o'er Wit. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 91 

Horace still charms with graceful negligence, 
And without method talks us into sense; 95 

Will; like a friend, familiarly convey 
The truest notions in the easiest way. 
He who, supreme in judgment as in wit, 
Might boldly censure as he boldly writ, 
Yet judg'd with coolness, though he sung with fire; 100 

His precepts teach but what his works inspire. 
Our critics take a contrary extreme. 
They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm; 
Nor suffers Horace more in wrong translations 
By Wits, than Critics in as wrong quotations. 105 

See Dionysius° Homer's thoughts refine. 
And call new beauties forth from ev'ry line ! 
Fancy and art in gay Petronius° please. 
The Scholar's learning with the courtier's ease. 

In grave Quintilian's° copious work we find no 

The justest rules and clearest method join'd. 
Thus useful arms in magazines we place, 
All ranged in order, and disposed with grace; 
But less to please the eye than arm the hand. 
Still fit for use, and ready at command. 115 

Thee, bold Longinus° ! all the Nine inspire, 
And bless their critic with a poet's fire : 
An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust, 
With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just; 
Whose own example strengthens all his laws, 120 

And is himself that great sublime he draws. 

Thus long succeeding critics justly reign'd, 
License repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd: 
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew. 
And arts still followed where her eagles flew; 125 



92 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

From the same foes at last both felt their doom, 
And the same age saw learning fall and Rome. 
With tyranny then superstition join'd, 
As that the body, this enslaved the mind; 

130 Much was believ'd, but little understood, 
And to be dull was construed to be good; 
A second deluge learning thus o'errun, 
And the monks finish 'd what the Goths° begun. 
At length Erasmus, ° that great injur'd name, 

135 (The glory of the priesthood and the shame !) 
Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age. 
And drove those holy Vandals° off the stage. 
But see ! each Muse in Leo's° golden days 
Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays. 

140 Rome's ancient genius, o'er its ruins spread. 
Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev 'rend head. 
Then sculpture and her sister arts revive; 
Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live; 
With sweeter notes each rising temple rung; 

145 A Raphael° painted and a Vida sung° : 
Immortal Vida ! on whose honour'd brow 
The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow: 
Cremona now shall ever boast thy name. 
As next in place to Mantua, next in fame ! 

150 But soon by impious arms from Latium chased, 
Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd; 
Thence arts o'er all the northern world advance, 
But critic learning flourish'd most in France; 
The rules a nation born to serve obeys, 

155 And Boileau° still in right of Horace sways. 
But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised, 
And kept unconquer'd and uncivilized; 



AN ESSAY OjY CRITICISM 93 

Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold, 

We still defied the Romans, as of old. 

Yet some there were, among the sounder few i6o 

Of those who less presmried and better knew, 

Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, 

And here restored Wit's fundamental laws. 

Such was the Muse° whose rules and practice tell 

'Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.' 165 

Such was Roscommon, ° not more learn 'd than good, 

With manners gen'rous as his noble blood ; 

To him the wit of Greece and Rome was know^n, 

And every author's merit but his own. 

Such late was Walsh° — the Muse's judge and friend, 170 

Who justly knew to blame or to commend; 

To failings mild but zealous for desert, 

The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. 

This humble praise, lamented Shade ! receive ; 

This praise at least a grateful Muse may give: 175 

The Muse whose early voice you taught to sing, 

Prescribed her heights, and pruned her tender wing, 

(Her guide now lost) , no more attempts to rise, 

But in low numbers short excursions tries ; 

Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, 180 

The learn'd reflect on what before they knew; 

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame; 

Still pleas'd to praise, 3^et not afraid to blame; 

Averse alike to flatter or offend; 

Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend. 185 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT° 

(1635 ?) 

P. 'Shut, shut the door, good John°!' fatigued, I said 
'Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.' 
The Dog-star rages ! nay, 'tis past a doubt 
All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out : 
5 Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, 

. They rave, recite, and madden round the land. 

What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide ? 
They pierce my thickets, thro' my grot° they glide. 
By land, by water, they renew the charge, 

loThey stop the chariot, and they board the barge. 
No place is sacred, not the church is free, 
Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me : 
Then from the Mint° walks forth the man of rhyme, 
Happy to catch me just at dinner time. 

15 Is there a Parson much bemused in beer, 
A maudlin Poetess, a rhyming Peer, 
A clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, 
Who pens a stanza when he should engross ? 
Is there who, lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls 

20 With desp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls? 
All fly to Twit'nam,° and in humble strain 
Apply to me to keep them mad or vain, 
Arthur, ° whose giddy son neglects the laws, 
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause : 

94 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 95 

Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, 25 

And curses Wit and Poetry, and Pope. 

Friend to my life (which did not you prolong, 
The world had wanted many an idle song) ! 
What Drop or Nostrum can this plague remove ? 
Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love? 30 

A dire dilemma ! either way I'm sped; 
If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead. 
Seiz'd and tied down to judge, how wretched I ! 
Who can't be silent, and who wdll not lie. 
To laugh were want of goodness and of grace, 35 

And to be grave exceeds all power of face. 
I sit with sad civility, I read 
With honest anguish and an aching head,° 
And drop at last, but in unwilling ears. 
This saving counsel, 'Keep your piece nine years. '° 4° 

' Nine years ! ' cries he, who, high in Drury lane,° 
Lull'd by soft zephyrs thro' the broken pane. 
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,° 
Obliged by hunger and request of friends : 
'The piece, you think, is incorrect? why, take it ! 45 

I'm all submission: what you'd have it — make it.' 

Three things another's modest wishes bound, 
'My friendship, and a Prologue, and ten pound.' 
Pitholeon° sends to me: 'You know his Grace, 
I want a patron; ask him for a place.' 50 

Pitholeon libell'd me — ' But here's a letter 
Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better. 
Dare you refuse him ? Curll° invites to dine, 
He'll write a Journal^ or he'll turn Divine.' 
Bless me ! a packet. — 'Tis a stranger sues, 55 

A Margin Tragedy,° an Orphan Muse. 



96 EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTIINOT 

If I dislike it, ^ Furies, death, and rage ! ' 
If I approve, 'Commend it to the stage.' 
There (thank my stars) my whole commission ends, 

60 The players and I are, luckily, no friends. ° 
Fired that the house rejects him, ''Sdeath, I'll print it, 
And shame the fools — your int'rest. Sir, with Lintot.'° 
Lintot, dull rogue, will think your price too much : 
'Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.' 

65 All my demurs but double his attacks ; 
At last he whispers, ' Do, and we go snacks.' 
Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door; 
'Sir, let me see your works and you no more.' 
'Tis sung, when Midas '° ears began to spring 

70 (Midas, a sacred person and a king). 
His very Minister° who spied them first 
(Some say his Queen) was forc'd to speak or burst. 
And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case. 
When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face ? 

75 A. Good friend, forbear ! you deal in dangerous things; 
I'd never name Queens, Ministers, or Kings; 
Keep close to ears, and those let asses prick, 
'Tis nothing — P. Nothing ! if they bite and kick ? 
Out with it, DuNCiAD ! let the secret pass, 

80 That secret to each fool, that he's an ass: 
The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie ?) 
The Queen of Midas slept, and so may I. 

You think this cruel ? take it for a rule, 
No creature smarts so little as a fool. 

85 Let peals of laughter, Codrus ! round thee break, 
Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty crack°: 
Pit, Box, and Gall'ry in convulsions hurl'd, 
Thou stand 'st unshook amidst a bursting world. 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTIINOT 97 

Who shames a Scril^bler ? break one cobweb thro' 

He spins the shght self-pleasing thread anew : 90 

Destroy his fib, or sophistry — in vain ! 

The creature's at his dirty work again, 

Throned in the centre of his thin designs, 

Proud of a- vast extent of flimsy lines. 

Whom have I hurt ? has Poet yet or Peer 95 

Lost the arch'd eyebrow or Parnassian sneer ? 

And has not Colley° still his lord and whore? 

His butchers Henley° ? his freemasons Moore° ? 

Does not one table Bavius still admit ? 

Still to one Bishop Philips^ seem a wit ? ico 

Still Sappho°— A. Hold! for God's sake — you'll 

offend. 
No names — be calm — learn prudence of a friend. 
1 too could write, and I am twice as tall; 
But foes like these — P. One flatt'rer's worse than all. 
Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right, 105 

It is the slaver kills, and not the bite. 
A fool quite angry is quite innocent : 
Alas ! 'tis ten times worse w^ien they repent. 

One dedicates in high heroic prose. 
And ridicules beyond a hundred foes; no 

One from all Grub-street v.ill my fame defend, 
And, more abusive, calls himself my friend: 
This prints my Letters, that expects a bribe. 
And others roar aloud, 'Subscribe, subscribe !' 

There are who to my person pay their court: 115 

I cough like Horace; and tho' lean, am short; 
Ammon's great son° one shoulder had too high. 
Such Ovid's nose, and SSir ! you have an eye° — ' 
Go on, obliging creatures ! make me see 

H 



98 EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTII^OT 

120 All that disgraced my betters met in me. 

Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, 

' Just so immortal Maro held his head : ' 

And when I die, be sure you let me know 

Great Homer died three thousand years ago. 
125 Why did I write ? what sin to me unknown 

Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own? 

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 

I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came° : 

I left no calling for this idle trade, 
130 No duty broke, no father disobey'd: 

The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not wife, 

To help me thro' this long disease my life. 

To second, Arbuthnot ! thy art and care, 

And teach the being you preserv'd, to bear. 
135 A. But why then publish ? P. Gran ville° the polite. 

And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write; 

Well-natured Garth inflamed with early praise, 

And Congreve lov'd, and Swift endured my lays; 

The courtly Talbot, Somers, Sheffield, read; 
140 Ev'n mitred Rochester° would nod the head. 

And St. John's self (great Dryden's friends before) 

With open arms receiv'd one poet more. 

Happy my studies, when by these approv'd ! 

Happier their author, when by these belov'd ! 
145 From these the world will judge of men and books, 

Not from the Burnets, Oldmixons, and Cookes.° 
Soft were my numbers; who could take offence 

While pure description held the place of sense° ? 

Like gentle Fanny 's° was my flowery theme, 
150 'A painted mistress, or a purling stream.' 

Yet then did Gildon° draw his venal quill ; 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 99 

I wish'd the man a dinner, and sat still : 

Yet then did Dennis° rave in furious fret; 

I never answer'd ; I was not in debt. 

If want provoked, or madness made them print, 155 

I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint.° 

Did some more sober critic come abroad ; 
If wrong, I smiled, if right, I kiss'd the rod. 
Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence, 
And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense. 160 

Commas and points they set exactly right, 
And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite. 
Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds, 
From slashing Bentleys° down to piddling Tibbalds.° 
Each wight who reads not, and but scans and spells, 165 
Each word-catcher that lives on syllables, 
Ev'n such small critics some regard may claim, 
Preserv'd in Milton's or in Shakspeare's name. 
Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms 
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or- worms ! 170 

The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, 
But wonder how the devil they got there. 

Were others angry : I excused them too ; 
Well might they rage, I gave them but their due. 
A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find; 175 

But each man's secret standard in his mind. 
That casting-weight Pride adds to emptiness, 
This, who can gratify ? for who can guess ? 
The bard whom pilfer'd pastorals renown. 
Who turns a Persian tale for half-a-crown,° 180 

Just writes to make his barrenness appear. 
And strains from hard-bound brains eight lines a year; 
He who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft, 



f 



c. 



100 EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 

Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left ; 
185 And he who now to sense, now nonsense, leaning, 

Means not, but blunders round about a meaning : 

And he whose fustian's so sublimel}^ bad, 

It is not poetry, but prose run mad: 

All these my modest satire bade translate, 
190 And own'd that nine such poets made a Tate.°- 

How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe ! 

And swear not Addison himself was safe. 

°Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires 

True Genius kindles, and fair Fame inspires, 
195 Bless'd with each talent and each art to please. 

And born to write, converse, and live with ease; 

Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, 

Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne; 

View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
200 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise; 

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 

And without sneering teach the rest to sneer; 

Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 

Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; 
205 Alike reserv'd to blame or to commend, 

A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend; 

Dreading ev'n fools ; by flatterers besieged, 

And so obliging that he ne'er obliged; 

Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, 
210 And sit attentive to his own applause : 

While Wits and Templars ev'ry sentence raise, 

And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 

Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? 

Who would not weep, if Atticus were he ? 
215 What tho' my name stood rubric on the walls. 



EPISTLE TO DR. AEBUTHNOT 101 

Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? 

Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, 

On wings of winds came flying all abroad ? 

I sought no homage from the race that write; 

I kept, like Asian Monarchs, from their sight: 220 

Poems I heeded (now berh3aiied so long) 

No more than thou, great George ! a birthday song. 

I ne'er wdth Wits or Witlings pass'd my days 

To spread about the itch of verse and praise; 

Nor like a puppy daggled thro' the town 225 

To fetch and carry sing-song up and down ; 

Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouth'd, and cried, 

With handkerchief and orange at my side; 

But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate, 

To Bufo° left the whole Castalian state. 230 

Proud as Apollo on his forked hill 
Sat full-blown Bufo, puff 'd by ev'ry quill : 
Fed wdth soft dedication all day long, 
Horace and he went hand in hand in song. 
His library (where busts of poets dead, 235 

And a true Pindar stood without a head°) 
Receiv'd of Wits an undistinguish'd race. 
Who first his judgment ask'd, and then a place : 
Much they extoll'd his pictures, much his seat, 
And flatter'd ev'ry day, and some days eat : 240 

Till grown more frugal in his riper days. 
He paid some bards with port, and some with praise; 
To some a dry rehearsal was assign 'd. 
And others (harder still) he paid in kind. 
Dryden alone (what wonder ?) came not nigh ; 245 

Dryden alone escaped this judging eye: 
But still the great have kindness in reserve; 



102 EPISTLE TO DR. AKBUTHNOT 

He help'd to bury whom he help'd to starve. ° 

May some choice patron bless each gray goose quill ! 
250 May every Bavius have his Bufo still ! 

So when a statesman wants a day's defence, 

Or Envy holds a whole week's war with Sense, 

Or simple Pride for flat fry makes demands, 

May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands ! 
255 Bless 'd be the great ! for those they take away, 
■ And those they left me — for they left me Gay° ; 

Left me to see neglected Genius bloom, 

Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb : 

Of all thy blameless life the sole return 
260 My Verse, and Queensb'ry weeping o'er thy urn ! 
Oh let me live my own, and die so too 

(To live and die is all I have to do) ! 

Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, 

And see what friends, and read what books I please ; 
265 Above a Patron, tho' I condescend 

Sometimes to call a minister my Friend. 

I was not born for courts of great affairs ; 

I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers; 

Can sleep without a poem in my head, 
270 Nor know if Dennis be alive or dead. 

Why am I ask'd what next shall see the light? 

Heav'ns ! was I born for nothing but to write ? 

Has life no joys for me ? or (to be grave) 

Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save? 
275 ' I found him close with Swift ' — ' Indeed ? no doubt 

(Cries prating Balbus) something will come out.' 

'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will ; 

'No, such a genius never can lie still :' 

And then for mine obligingly mistakes 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBCTHNOT 103 

The first lampoon Sir WilP or Bubo makes. 280 

Poor guiltless I ! and can I choose but smile, 
When ev'ry coxcomb knows me by ni}'^ style ? 

Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, 
That tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
Give Virtue scandal. Innocence a fear, 285 

Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear ! 
But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace, 
Insults fall'n Worth, or Beaut}^ in distress, 
Who loves a lie, lame Slander helps about, 
Who writes a libel, or who copies out; 290 

That fop whose pride affects a patron's name. 
Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame; 
Wlio can your merit selfishly approve. 
And show the sense of it without the love; 
W^ho has the vanity to call you friend, 295 

Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend; 
Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say, 
And, if he lie not, must at least betray; 
Who to the Dean and Silver BelP can swear, 
And sees at Canons what was never there; 300 

Who reads but with a lust to misapply. 
Make satire a lampoon, and fiction lie : 
A lash like mine no honest man shall dread. 
But all such babbling blockheads in his stead. 

Let Sporus° tremble — A. What? that thing of silk, 305 
Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's milk? 
Satire or sense, alas ! can Sporus feel ? 
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel ? 

P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings. 
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; 310 

Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, 



10 i EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 

Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys; 

So well-bred spaniels civilly delight 

In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. 

315 Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, 

As shallow streams run dimpling all the way, 
Whether in florid impotence he speaks, 
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks, 
Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, 

320 Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, 
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies. 
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies; 
His wit all see-saw between that and this, ] 

Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, \ 

325 And he himself one vile Antithesis. J 

Amphibious thing ! that acting either part. 
The trifling head, or the corrupted heart; 
Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board. 
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. 

330 Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest, 
A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; 
Beauty that shocks you. Parts that none will trust. 
Wit that can creep, and Pride that licks the dust. 
Not Fortune's worshipper, nor Fashion's fool, 

335 Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool. 
Not proud nor servile; — be one poet's praise, 
That if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly ways: 
That flatt'ry ev'n to Kings, he held a shame, 
And thought a lie in verse or prose the same; 

340 That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, 
But stoop'd to truth, and moralized his song; 
That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end. 
He stood° the furious foe, the timid friend, 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 105 

The damning critic, half approving wit, 

The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit; 345 

Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had, 

The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; 

The distant threats of vengeance on his head, 

The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed; 

The tale revived, the lie so oft o'erthrown,° 350 

Th' imputed trash and dulness not his own°; 

The morals blacken'd when the writings 'scape, 

The libell'd person, and the pictured shape°; 

Abuse on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread, 

A friend in exile,° or a father deacP; 355 

The whisper, that, to greatness still too near, 

Perhaps yet vibrates on his Sov'reign's ear — 

Welcome for thee, fair Virtue ! all the past : 

For thee, fair Virtue ! welcome ev'n the last ! 

A. But why insult the poor ? affront the great ? 360 

P. A knave's a knave to me in ev'ry state; 

Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, 

Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail; 

A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer, 

Knight of the post° corrupt, or of the shire; 365 

If on a Pillory, or near a Throne, 

He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own. 
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, 

Sappho can tell you how this man was bit : 

This dreaded Satirist Dennis will confess 370 

Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress°: 

So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door,° 

Has drunk with Gibber, nay, has rhymed for Moore. ° 

Full ten years° slander'd, did he once reply? 

Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's° lie. sis 



106 EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 

To please a mistress one aspers'd his life; 
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife : 
Let Budgell° charge low Grub-street on his quill, 
And write w^iate'er he pleased, except his will; 

380 Let the two Curlls of town and court abuse 
His father, mother, body, soul, and muse : 
Yet why ? that father held it for a rule, 
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool; 
That harmless mother thought no wife a w^hore : 

385 Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore ! 
Unspotted names, and memorable long. 
If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. 

Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's cause, 
While yet in Britain honour had applause) 

390 Each parent sprung — A.' What fortune, pray ? 
P. Their own; 

And better got than Bestia's° from the throne. 
Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, 
Nor marrying discord in a noble wdfe,° 
Stranger to civil and religious rage, 

395 The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age. 
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, 
Nor dared an oath,° nor hazarded a lie. 
Unlearn 'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, 
No language but the language of the heart. 

400 By Nature honest, by Experience wise. 
Healthy by Temp'rance and by Exercise; 
His life, tho' long, to sickness pass'd unknown, 
His death was instant and without a groan. 
O grant me thus to live, and thus to die ! 

405 Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I, 
friend ! may each domestic bliss be thine ! 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 107 

Be no unpleasing melancholy mine : 

Me, let the tender office long engage 

To rock the cradle of reposing Age, 

With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath, 41° 

Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed of Death; 

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, 

And keep awhile one parent from the sky ! 

On cares like these if length of days attend. 

May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend ! 415 

Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene. 

And just as rich as when he serv'd a Queen. ° 

A. Whether that blessing be denied or giv'n, 
Thus far was right; — the rest belongs to Heav'n. 



AN ADDRESS TO DULNESS FROM THE 

DUNCIAD ° 

BOOK IV 

Now crowds on crowds around the Goddess press, 

Each eager to present the first address. 

Dunce scorning Dunce beholds the next advance, 

But Fop shows Fop superior complaisance. 
5 When lo ! a spectre rose, whose index hand 

Held forth the virtue of the dreadful wand ; 

His beaver'd brow a birchen garland wears, 

Dropping with infants' blood and mothers' tears. 

O'er ev'ry vein a shudd'ring horror runs, 
lo Eton and Winton° shake thro' all their sons. 

All flesh is humbled, Westminster's bold race 

Shrink, and confess the Genius of the place: 

The pale boy-senator yet tingling stands. 

And holds his breeches close with both his hands. 
15 Then thus : ' Since man from beast by words is known, 

Words are man's province, words we teach alone. 

When reason doubtful, like the Samian letter, ° 

Points him two ways, the narrower is the better. 

Placed at the door of learning, youth to guide,° 
20 We never suffer it to stand too wide. 

To ask, to guess, to know, as they commence, 

108 



^.V ADDRESS TO DULNESS 109 

As Fancy opens the quick springs of Sense, 

We ply the Memory, we load the Brain, 

Bind rebel wit, and double chain on chain, 

Confine the thought, to exercise the breath, 25 

And keep them in the pale of words till death. 

Whate'er the talents, or howe'er design'd, 

We hang one jingling padlock on the mind: 

A poet the first day he dips his quill ; 

And what the last? a very poet still, 30 

Pity ! the charm works only in our wall, 

Lost, lost too soon in yonder house or hall.° 

There truant Wyndham° ev'ry Muse gave o'er, 

There Talbot° sunk, and was a Wit no more ! 

How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast ! 35 

How many Martials were in Pultney lest ! 

Else sure some bard, to our eternal praise. 

In twice ten thousand rh3'ming nights and days, 

Had reach'd the work, the all that mortal can. 

And South beheld that masterpiece of man.° 4° 

' (cried the Goddess) for some pedant reign ! 
Some gentle James,° to bless the land again : 
To stick the doctor's chair into the throne. 
Give law to words, or war with words alone. 
Senates and Courts with Greek and Latin rule, 45 

And turn the Council to a grammar school ! 
For sure if Dulness sees a grateful day, 
'Tis in the shade of arbitrary sway. 
O ! if my sons may learn one earthly thing. 
Teach but that one, sufficient for a King; 5° 

That which my priests, and mine alone, maintain, 
Which, as it dies, or lives, we fall, or reign: 
May you, may Cam, and Isis, preach it long! 



110 AN ADDRESS TO DULNESS 

'''The right divine of Kings to govern wrong.'" 

55 Prompt at the call, around the Goddess roll 
Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable shoal: 
Thick and more thick the black blockade extends, 
A hundred head of Aristotle's friends. 
Nor wert thou, Isis ! wanting to the day 

60 (Tho' Christ Church long kept prudishly away)°: 
Each stanch polemic, stubborn as a rock, 
Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke, ° 
Came whip and spur, and dash'd thro' thin and thick, 
On German Crousaz,° and Dutch Burgersdyck.° 

65 As many quit the streams° that murm'ring fall 
To lull the sons of Marg'ret and Clare Hall, 
Where Bentley° late tempestuous wont to sport 
In troubled waters, but now sleeps in port. 
Before them march'd that awful Aristarch; 

70 Plough 'd was his front with many a deep remark; 
His hat, which never veil'd to human pride, 
Walker° with rev'rence took, and laid aside. 
Low bow'd the rest; he, kingly, did but nod; 
So upright Quakers please both man and God. 

75 'Mistress! dismiss that rabble from your throne; 
Avaunt — is Aristarchus° yet unknown ? 
Thy mighty scholiast, whose unwearied pains 
Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains. ° 
Turn what they will to verse, their toil is vain, 

80 Critics like me shall make it prose again. 
Roman and Greek grammarians ! know your better; 
Author of something yet more great than letter; 
While tow'ring o'er your alphabet, like Saul, 
Stands our Digamma,° and o'ertops them all. 

85 'Tis true, on words is still our whole debate, 



AN ADDRESS TO DULNESS 111 

Disputes of me or te,° of aut or at, 

To sound or sink in cano, O or A, 

Or give up Cicero to C or K.° 

Let Friend° affect to speak as Terence spoke, 

And Alsop° never but like Horace joke: 9° 

For me what Virgil, Pliny, may deny, 

Manilius° or Solinus shall supply : 

For Attic phrase in Plato let them seek, 

I poach in Suidas° for unlicens'd Greek. 

In ancient sense if any needs will deal, 95 

Be sure I give them fragments, not a meal; 

What Gellius° or Stob8eus° hash'd before, 

Or chew'd by blind old scholiasts o'er and o'er. 

The critic eye, that microscope of wit. 

Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit. too 

How parts relate to parts, or they to whole. 

The Body's harmony, the beaming Soul, 

Are things which Kuster,° Burman,° Wasse° shall see; 

When man's whole frame is obvious to a flea. 

' Ah, think not. Mistress ! more true dulness lies 105 

In Folly's cap, than Wisdom's grave disguise. 
Like buoys, that never sink into the flood. 
On learning's surface we but lie and nod. 
Thine is the genuine head of many a house. 
And much divinity without a vov?. no 

Nor could a Barrow° work on ev'ry block, 
Nor has one Atterbury° spoil 'd the flock ! 
See ! still thy own, the heavy Canon roll. 
And metaphysic smokes involve the pole. 
For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head 115 

With all such reading as was never read : 
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, 



112 AN ADDRESS TO DULNESS 

And write about it, Goddess, and about it : 
So spins the silkworm small its slender store, 

120 And labours till it clouds itself all o'er. 

' What tho' we let some better sort of fool 
Thrid ev'ry science, run thro' ev'ry school ? 
Never by tumbler thro' the hoops was shown 
Such skill in passing all, and touching none. 

125 He may indeed (if sober all this time) 

Plague with Dispute, or persecute with Rhyme. 
We only furnish what he cannot use, 
Or, wed to what he must divorce, a Muse : 
Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once, 

130 And petrify a Genius to a Dunce : 

Or, set on metaphysic ground to prance, 
Show all his paces, not a step advance. 
With the same cement, ever sure to bind. 
We bring to one dead level ev'ry mind : 

135 Then take him to develop, if you can. 

And hew the Block off, and get out the Man.° ' 



THE TRIUMPH OF DULNESS 

THE CONCLUDING LINES OF THE DUNCIAD 

In vain, in vain — the all-composing hour 
Resistless falls; the Muse obeys the power. 
She comes ! she comes ! the sable throne behold 
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old ! 
5 Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay, 
And all its varying rainbows die away. 
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, 



THE TRIUMPH OF DULNESS 113 

The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. 

As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, 

The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain; lo 

As Argus' eyes, b}^ Hermes' wand opprest, 

Closed one by one to everlasting rest ; 

Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, 

Art after Art goes out, and all is night. 

See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, 15 

Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head ! 

Philosophy, that lean'd on Heaven before. 

Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. 

Physic of Metaphysic begs defence. 

And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense ! 20 

See Mystery to Mathematics fly ! 

In vain ! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. 

Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,° 

And unawares Morality expires. 

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; 25 

Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! 

Lo ! thy dread empire. Chaos ! is restor'd; 

Light dies before thy uncreating word : 

Thy hand, great Anarch ! lets the curtain fall; 

And universal Darkness buries all. 3° 



ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY° 

(1708-1730) 

I 

Descend, ye Nine,° descend and sing : 
The breathing instruments inspire, 
Wake into voice each silent string, 
And sweep the sounding lyre. 
5 In a sadly pleasing strain 

Let the warbling lute complain; 
Let the loud trumpet sound, 
Till the roofs all around 
The shrill echoes rebound; 
lo While in more lengthened notes and slow 

The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. 
Hark ! the numbers soft and clear 
Gently steal upon the ear; 
Now louder, and yet louder rise, 
15 And fill with spreading sounds the skies: 

Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, 
In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats: 
Till by degrees, remote and small, 
The strains decay, 
20 And melt away. 

In a dying, dying fall. 
114 



ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA'S DAT 115 



II 

By Music minds an equal temper know, 
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. 
If in the breast tumultuous J03\s arise, 
Music her soft assuasive voice applies : 25 

Or when the soul is press 'd with cares, 
Exalts her in enlivening airs. 
Warriors she fires with animated sounds, 
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds; 

Melancholy lifts her head, 30 

Morpheus rouses from his bed, 
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 
List'ning Envy drops her snakes; 
Intestine war no more our passions wage, 
And giddy Factions hear away their rage.° 35 

III 

But when our country's cause provokes to arms, 
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms ! 
So when the first bold'vesseP dared the seas, 
High on the stern the Thracian° rais'd his strain. 

While Argo saw her kindred trees 40 

Descend from Pelion to the main : 

Transported demigods stood round, ° 

And men grew heroes at the sound, 
Inflamed with Glory's charms: 

Each chief his sev'nfold shield display'ci, 45 

And half unsheath'd the shining blade; 
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound 

To arms, to arms, to arms ! 



116 ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA^ S BAY 

IV 

But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, 
50 Which flaming Phlegethon° surrounds, 
Love, strong as Death, the Poet° led 
To the pale nations of the dead, 
What sounds were heard, 
What scenes appear'd, 
55 O 'er all the dreamy coasts ! 

Dreadful gleams, 
Dismal screams. 
Fires that glow, 
Shrieks of woe, 
60 Sullen moans. 

Hollow groans, 
And cries of tortured ghosts ! 
But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre, 
And see ! the tortured ghosts respire ! 
65 See, shady forms advance ! 

Thy stone, O Sisyphus,° stands still, 
Ixion rests upon his wheel, ° 
And the pale spectres dance; 
The Furies sink upon their iron beds, 
70 And snakes uncurFd hang list'ning round their heads. 



By the streams that ever flow, 
By the fragrant winds that blow 

O'er th' Elysian flowers; 
By those happy souls who dwell 
75 In yellow meads of Asphodel, 
Or Amaranthine bowers; 



ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA^ S DAY 111 

By the heroes' armed shades, 
Ghtt'ring thro' the gloomy glades; 
By the youths that died for love, 
Wand 'ring in the myrtle grove, ° 80 

Restore, restore Eurydice to life° ! 
Oh, take the husband, or return the wife ! 
He sung, and Hell consented 
To hear the Poet's prayer: 
Stern Proserpine relented, ° 85 

And gave him back the Fair. 
Thus song could prevail 
O'er Death and o'er Hell, 
A conquest how hard and how glorious ! 

Tho' fate had fast bound her, 90 

With Styx° nine times round her, 
Yet music and love were victorious. 



VI 

But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes: 
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! 
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters° move ? 95 

No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. 
Now under hanging mountains. 
Beside the falls of fountains, 
Or where Hebrus° wanders. 

Rolling in meanders, 100 

All alone, 

Unheard, unknown, 
He makes his moan; 
And calls her ghost. 
For ever, ever, ever lost ! 105 



118 ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA^S DAY 

Now with Furies° surrounded, 
Despairing, confounded, 
He trembles, he glows, 
Amidst Rhodope's snows, 
no See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies ! 

Hark ! Hsemus resovmds with the Bacchanals' cries° 

Ah see, he dies ! 
Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung, 
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue; 
115 Eurydice the woods, 
Eurydice the floods, 
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung. 

VII 

Music the flercest grief can charm, 
And Fate's severest rage disarm : 
120 Music can soften pain to ease. 

And make despair and madness please: 
Our joys below it can improve. 
And antedate the bliss above. 
This the divine Cecilia found, 
125 And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound. 
When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, 

Th' immortal Powers incline their ear; 
Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire, 
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire, 
130 And Angels lean from Heav'n to hear. 
Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell ; 
To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n : 
His numbers rais'd a shade from Hell, 
Hers lift the soul to Heav'n. ° 



TO MR. GAY 119 



ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL° 

A PLEASING Form, a firm, yet cautious Mind; 

Sincere, tlio' prudent; constant, yet resign'd: 

Honour unchanged, a Principle prof est, 

Fix'd to one side, but mod'rate to the rest: 

An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too, 5 

Just to his Prince, and to his Country true : 

Fiird with the Sense of age, the Fire of youth, 

A scorn of Wranghng, yet a zeal for Truth; 

A gen'rous Faith, from superstition free, 

A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny ; lo 

Such this Man was, who now, from earth remov'd, 

At length enjoys that Liberty he lov'd. 

TO MR. GAY 

WHO HAD CONGRATULATED POPE ON FINISHING 
HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS 

(Written early iu 1722) 

Ah, friend ! 'tis true — this truth you lovers know — 

In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow. 

In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes 

Of hanging mountains, and of sloping greens; 

Joy lives not here, to happier seats it flies, 5 

And only dwells where Wortley casts her eyes. 

What are the gay Parterre, the chequer'd Shade, 
The morning Bower, the evening Colonnade, 
But soft recesses of uneasy minds, 
To sigh unheard in to the passing winds ? lo 



120 ON MR. GAY 

So the struck deer in some sequester'd part 
Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart; 
He stretch 'd unseen in coverts hid from day, 
Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his Ufe away. 



ON MR. GAY 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1730 

Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; 

In Wit a man ; Simplicity a child : 

With native Humour temp 'ring virtuous Rage, 

Form'd to delight at once and lash the age : 

5 Above temptation, in a low estate, 

And uncorrupted ev'n among the Great : 
A safe Companion, and an easy Friend, 
Unblamed thro' life, lamented in thy End. 
These are thy Honours ! not that here thy bust 

lo Is mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy dust : 
But that the Worthy and the Good shall say. 
Striking their pensive bosoms — ' Here lies Gay ! ' 



ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFOR- 
TUNATE LADY° 

What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade 
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 
'Tis she ! — but why that bleeding bosom gor'd ? 
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? 



ELEGY TO AN UNFORTUNATE LADY 121 

Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell, 5 

Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well ? 

To bear too tender or too firm a heart, 

To act a lover's or a Roman's part ? 

Is there no bright reversion in the sky 

For those who greatly think, or bravely die? lo 

Why bade ye else, ye Powers ! her soul aspire 

Above the vulgar flight of low desire ? 

Ambition first sprung from youi' blest abodes, 

The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods : 

Thence to their images on earth it flows, 15 

And in the breasts of Kings and Heroes glows. 

Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, 

Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage; 

Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years 

Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres; 20 

Like eastern Kings a lazy state they keep, 

And, close confin'd to their own palace, sleep. 

From these, perhaps (ere Nature bade her die), 
Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. 
As into air the purer spirits flow, 25 

And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below; 
So flew the soul to its congenial place, 
Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. 

But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, 
Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood ! 30 

See on these ruby lips the trembling breath. 
These cheeks now fading at the blast of death ; 
Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, 
And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. 
Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, 35 

Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall; 



122 ELEGY TO AN UNFORTUNATE LADY 

On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, 
And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates; 
There passengers shall stand, and pointing say 

40 (While the long funerals blacken all the way), 

Lo ! these were they whose souls the furies steel'd. 
And cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield. 
Thus unlamented pass the proud away, 
The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day ! 

45 So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn 'd to glow 
For others' good, or melt at others' woe. 
What can atone, O ever injured shade ! 
Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? 
No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear 

so Pleas 'd thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier; 
By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, 
By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed. 
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd. 
By strangers honour 'd, and by strangers mourn 'd. 

55 What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear. 

Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, 
And bear about the mockery of woe 
To midnight dances, and the public show? 
What tho' no weeping loves thy ashes grace, 

60 Nor polish 'd marble emulate thy face ? 

What tho' no sacred earth allow thee room, 
Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb? 
Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd, 
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : 

65 There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, 
There the first roses of the year shall blow ; 
While angels with their silver wings o'ershade 
The ground, now sacred by thy relics made. 



ELEar TO AN UNFORTUNATE LADY 123 

So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, 
What once had Beauty, Titles, Wealth and Fame. 70 
How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, 
To whom related, or by whom begot; 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee ; 
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! 

Poets themselves must fall like those they sung, 75 
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. 
Ev'n he w^iose soul now melts in mournful lays, 
Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; 
Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, 
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart; sc 

Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, 
The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more ! 



ELOISA TO ABELARD" 

(1718) 

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, 
Where heav'nly-pensive Contemplation dwells, 
And ever-musing Melancholy reigns, 
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? 

5 Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ? 
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat ? 
Yet, yet I love ! — From Abelard it came, 
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. 
Dear fatal name ! rest ever unreveal'd, 

loNor pass these lips, in holy silence seal'd: 
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, 
Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies : 

write it not, my hand — the name appears 
Already written — wash it out, my tears ! 

15 In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays. 
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. 

Relentless walls ! whose darksome round contains 
Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains : 
Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn; 

20 Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn ! 
Shrines ! where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep, 
And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep ! 
Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and silent grown, 

1 have not yet forgot myself to stone. 

25 All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part. 
Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart; 

124 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 125 

Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, 
Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain. 

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, 
That well-known name awakens all my woes. 30 

Oh name for ever sad ! for ever dear ! 
Still breathed in sighs, still usher 'd with a tear. 
I tremble too, where'er my own I find, 
Some dire misfortune follows close behind. 
Line after line my gushing eyes overflow, 35 

Led thro' a safe variety of woe: 
Now warm in love, now with 'ring in my bloom, 
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom ! 
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, 
There died the best of passions, Love and Fame. 40 

Yet write, O write me all, that I may join 
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. 
Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; 
And is my Abelard less kind than they ? 
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare; 45 

Love but demands what else were shed in prayer. 
No happier task these faded eyes pursue; 
To read and weep is all they now can do. 

Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; 
Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. 50 

Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, 
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid ; 
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires. 
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires; 
The virgin's wish without her fears impart, SS 

Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart. 
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, 
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole, 



126 E LOIS A TO ABELARD 

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, 

60 When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; 
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, 
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind. 
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring every ray, 
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day, 

65 Guiltless I gazed; Heav'n listen'd while you sung; 
And truths divine came mended from that tongue. 
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? 
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love: 
Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran, 

70 Nor wish'd an angel whom I loved a man. 
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see; 
Nor envy them that Heav'n I lose for thee. 

How oft, when press 'd to marriage, have I said. 
Curse on all laws but those which Love has made ! 

75 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, 
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. 
Let Wealth, let Honour, wait the wedded dame, 
August her deed, and sacred be her fame; 
Before true passion all those views remove; 

80 Fame, Wealth, and Honour ! what are you to Love ? 
The jealous God, when we profane his fires. 
Those restless passions in revenge inspires, 
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan. 
Who seek in love for aught but love alone. 

S5 Should at my feet the world's great master fall, 
Himself, his throne, his world, L'd scorn 'em all: 
Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; 
No, make me mistress to the man I love; 
If there be yet another name more free, 

90 More fond than mistress, make me that to thee ! 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 127 

happy state ! when souls each other draw, 
When Love is hberty, and Nature law: 

All then is full, possessing and possessed, 

No craving void left aching in the breast : 

Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, 95 

And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. 

This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be), 

And once the lot of Abelard and me. 

Alas, how changed ! what sudden horrors rise ! 
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies ! 100 

Where, where w^as Eloise ? her voice, her hand, 
Her poniard had opposed the dire command. 
Barbarian, stay ! that bloody stroke restrain ; 
The crime was common, common be the pain. 

1 can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, 105 
Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest. 

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, 
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay ? 
Canst thou forget w^hat tears that moment fell, 
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell ? no 

As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil, 
The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale: 
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey 'd. 
And saints with wonder heard the vows I made. 
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, 115 

Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: 
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call. 
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. 
Come ! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my w^oe; 
Those still at least are left thee to bestow, 120 

Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, 
Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, 



128 E LOIS A TO ADELARD 

Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd ; 

Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest. 
125 Ah, no ! instruct me other joys to prize, 

With other beauties charm my partial eyes ! 

Full in my view set all the bright abode, 

And make my soul quit Abelard for God. 

Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, 
130 Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer. 

From the false world in early youth they fled, 

By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. 

You raised these hallow'd walls°; the desert smil'd, 

And Paradise was open'd in the wild. 
135 No weeping orphan saw his father's stores 

Our shrines irradiate or emblaze the floors; 

No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n. 

Here bribed the rage of ill-requited Heav'n; 

But such plain roofs as piety could raise, 
140 And only vocal with the Maker's praise. 

In these lone walls (their day's eternal bound). 

These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, 

Where awful arches make a noonday night. 

And the dim windows shed a solemn light, 
145 Thy eyes diffused a reconciling ray, 

And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. 

But now no face divine contentment wears, 

'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. 

See how the force of others' prayers I try, 
150 (O pious fraud of am'rous charity !) 

But why should I on others' prayers depend ? 

Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend ! 

Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, move. 

And all those tender names in one, thy love ! 



£ LOIS A TO ABELARD 129 

The darksome pines, that o'er yon rocks recHn'd, 155 

Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, 

The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, 

The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, 

The dying gales that pant upon the trees, 

The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze — i6q 

No more these scenes my meditation aid, 

Or lull to rest the visionary maid : 

But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves. 

Long-sounding aisles and intermingled graves, 

Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws 165 

A death-like silence, and a dread repose . 

Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene. 

Shades every flower, and darkens every green, 

Deepens the murmur of the falling floods. 

And breathes a browner horror on the woods. 170 

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; 
Sad proof how well a lover can obey ! 
Death, only Death can break the lasting chain; 
And here, ev'n then shall my cold dust remain; 
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, 175 

And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine. 

Ah, wretch ! believ'd the spouse of God in vain. 
Confess 'd within the slave of Love and man. 
Assist me, Heav'n ! but whence arose that prayer ? 
Sprung it from piety or from despair ? 180 

Ev'n here, where frozen Chastity retires, 
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. 
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; 
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault; 
I view my crime, but kindle at the view, 185 

Repent old pleasures, and solicit new; 

K 



130 ELOISA TO ABELARD 

Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence, 

Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. 

Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 
190 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget ! 

How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense. 

And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? 

How the dear object from the crime remove, 

Or how distinguish Penitence from Love ? 
195 Unequal task ! a passion to resign. 

For hearts so touch'd, so pierced, so lost as mine: 

Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state. 

How often must it love, how often hate ! 

How often hope, despair, resent, regret, 
200 Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget ! 

But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fired; 

Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspired! 

O come ! O teach me Nature to subdue. 

Renounce my love, my life, myself — and You: 
205 Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he 

Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. 
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot ! 

The world forgetting, by the world forgot; 

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 
210 Each prayer accepted, and each wish resign'd; 

Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; 

Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep°; 

Desires composed, affections ever ev'n; 

Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n. 
215 Grace shines around her with serenest beams, 

And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. 

For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms. 

And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 131 

For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring; 

For her white virgins hymeneals sing; 220 

To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away, 

And mehs in visions of eternal day. 

Far other dreams my erring soul employ, 
Far other raptures of unholy joy. 

When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, 225 

Fancy restores what vengeance snatch 'd away, 
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature free, 
All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee ! 
Oh curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night ! 
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight ! 230 

Provoking demons all restraint remove. 
And stir within me every source of love. 
I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms, 
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. 
I wake : — no more I hear, no more I view, 235 

The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. 
I call aloud ; it hears not what I say : 
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away. 
To dream once more I close my willing eyes; 
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise ! 240 

Alas, no more ! methinks we wand 'ring go 
Thro' dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe. 
Where round some mould 'ring tower pale ivy creeps. 
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. 
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; 24c 

Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. 
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, 
And wake to all the griefs I left behind. 

For thee the Fates, severely kind, ordain 
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; 250 



132 E LOIS A TO A BELAUD 

Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; 
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. 
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, 
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; 

255 Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n. 

And mild as opening gleams of promised Heav'n. 
Come, Abelard ! for what hast thou to dread ? 
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. 
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves; 

260 Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves. 

Ah, hopeless, lasting flames; like those that burn 
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn ! 
What scenes appear where'er I turn my view; 
The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue; 

265 Rise in the grove, before the altar rise. 
Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. 
I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee. 
Thy image steals between my God and me : 
Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear, 

270 With every bead I drop too soft a tear. 

When from the censor clouds of fragrance roll, 
And swelling organs lift the rising soul. 
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, 
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight : 

275 In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, 
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. 

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie. 
Kind virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye. 
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, 

280 And dawning grace is opening on my soul : 
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art ! 
Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart; 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 133 

Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes 

Blot out each bright idea of the skies; 

Take back that grace, those sorrows and those tears, 285 

Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers; 

Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode ; 

Assist the fiends, and tear ir.e from my God ! 

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; 

Rise Alps between us ! and wdiole oceans roll ! 290 

Ah, come not, wTite not, think not once of me, 

Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. 

Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; 

Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. 

Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view), 295 

Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu ! 

O Grace serene ! O Virtue heav'nly fair ! 

Divine Oblivion of low-thoughted care ! 

Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the sky ! 

And Faith, our early immortality ! 300 

Enter each mild, each amicable guest; 

Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest ! 

See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, 
Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead. 
In each low wand methinks a spirit calls, 305 

And more than echoes talk along the walls. 
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, 
From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound : 
'Come, sister, come ! (it said, or seem'd to say) 
Thy place is here, sad sister, come away; 310 

Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, 
Love's victim then, tho' now a sainted maid : 
But all is calm in this eternal sleep; 
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep ; 



134 ELOISA TO ABELARD 

315 Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear: 

For God, not man, absolves our frailties here.' 

I come, I come ! prepare your roseate bowers, 
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. 
Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, 

320 Where flames refln'd in breasts seraphic glow; 
Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay. 
And smooth my passage to the realms of day : 
See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll. 
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul ! 

325 Ah, no — in sacred vestments mayst thou stand, 
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, 
Present the cross before my lifted eye, 
Teach me at once, and learn of me, to die. 
Ah then, thy once lov'd Eloisa see ! 

330 It will be then no crime to gaze on me. 
See from my cheek the transient roses fly ! 
See the last sparkle languish in my eye ! 
Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er, 
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. 

335 O Death, all-eloquent ! you only prove 

What dust we doat on, when 'tis man we love. 

Then too, when Fate shall thy fair frame destroy 
(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy). 
In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, 

340 Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round; 
From opening skies may streaming glories shine, 
And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. 

May one kind grave unite each hapless name,° 
And graft my love immortal on thy fame ! 

345 Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er. 
When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 135 

If ever chance two wand 'ring lovers brings, 

To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, 

O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, 

And drink the falling tears each other sheds; 350 

Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, 

' O may we never love as these have lov'd ! ' 

From the full choir, when loud hosannas rise, 

And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice. 

Amid that scene if some relenting eye 355 

Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie. 

Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n, 

One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n. 

And sure if Fate some future bard shall join 

In sad similitude of griefs to mine,° 360 

Condemn 'd whole years in absence to deplore. 

And image charms he must behold no more, — 

Such if there be, who loves so long, so well, 

Let him our sad, our tender story tell; 

The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost; 365 

He best can paint them who shall feel them most. 



MESSIAH 

Ye Nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song : 
To heav'nly themes subhmer strains belong. 
The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades, 
The dreams of Pindus, and th' Aonian maids, 

5 Delight no more — O Thou my voice inspire 
Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire ! 

Rapt into future times, the bard begun : 
A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son ! ^ 
From Jesse's ^ root behold a branch arise, 

lo Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies ; 
Th' ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move. 
And on its top descends the mystic dove. 
Ye Heav'ns ! ^ from high the dewy nectar pour, 
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower ! 

15 The sick^ and weak the healing plant shall aid, 
From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade. 
All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, 
Returning Justice ^ lift aloft her scale ; 
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, 

20 And white-robed Innocence from Heav'n descend. 
Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn ! 
O spring to light, auspicious babe ! be born. 
See Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,^ 

136 



IMITATIONS 

^ Virg. Eel. iv. ver, 6. 

' Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna ; 
Jam nova progenies coelo demittitur alto. 
Te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri, 
Irrita perpetua solvent formidine terras. . . . 
Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem.' 

' Now the virgin returns, now the kingdom of Saturn returns, 
now a new progeny is sent down from high heaven. By means of 
thee, whatever relics of our crimes remain, shall be wiped away, 
and free the world from perpetual fears. He shall govern the earth 
in peace, with the virtues of his father.' 

Isaiah, ch. vii. ver. 14. ' Behold, a virgin shall conceive and 
bear a son." Ch. ix. ver. 6, 7. "Unto us a child is born, unto 
us a son is given . . . the Prince of Peace : of the increase of his 
government, and of his peace, there shall be no end, upon the 
throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to estab- 
lish it, with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for- 
ever.' 

2 Isaiah, ch. xi. ver. 1. 3 ch. xlv. ver. 8. 

* Ch. XXV. ver. 4. 6 qi^^ jx. ver. 7. 

^ Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 18. 

' At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu, 
Errantes hederas passim cum baccare tellus, 
Mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho — 
Ipsa tibi blandos f undent cunabula flores.' 
137 



138 MESSIAH 

With all the incense of the breathing spring: 

25 See lofty Lebanon ^ his head advance, 
See nodding forests on the mountains dance : 
See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise, 
And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies ! 
Hark ! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;^ 

30 Prepare the way ! ^ a God, a God appears ! 
A God, a God ! the vocal hills reply; 
The Rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. 
Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies ! 
Sink down, ye Mountains, and, ye valleys, rise; 

35 With heads declined, ye Cedars, homage pay; 
Be smooth, ye Rocks; ye rapid floods, give way 
The Saviour comes, by ancient bards foretold ! 
Hear him,^^ ye deaf, and all ye blind, behold ! 
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, 

40 And on the sightless eyeball pour the day : 
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear, 
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear: 
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, 
And leap exulting like the bounding roe. 

45 No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear, 
From every face he wipes off every tear. 
In" adamantine chains shall Death be bound, 
And Plell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. 
As the good Shepherd ^^ tends his fleecy care, 

50 Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air. 
Explores the lost, the wand'ring sheep directs, 
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects; 
The tender lambs he raises in his arms. 
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms; 



IMITATIONS 139 

' For thee, O child, shall the earth, without be-iiig tilled, pro- 
duce her- early offerings ; winding ivy, mixed with baccar, and 
colocasia with smiling acanthus. Thy cradle shall pour forth 
pleasing flowers about thee.' 

Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 1. 'The wilderness and the solitaiy 
place shall be glad . . . and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as 
the rose.' Ch. Ix. ver. 13. 'The glory of Lebanon sliall come 
unto thee, the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together to beau- 
tify the place of my sanctuary.' 

■^ Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 2. 

8 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 48, Eel. v. ver. 62. 

'■■ Aggredere o magnos, aderit jam tempus, honores, 
Cara deum soboles, magnum Jo vis incrementum ! 

Ipsi Isetitia voces ad sidera jactant 

Intonsi montes, ipsse jam carmina rupes. 

Ipsa sonant arbusta, Deus, deus ille, Menalca ! ' 

'0 come and receive the mighty honours : the time draws nigh, 
O beloved offspring of the Gods, O great increase of Jove ! . . . 
The uncultivated mountains send shouts of joy to the stars, the 
very rocks sing in verse, the very shrubs cry out, A god, a God-' 

Isaiah, ch. xl. ver. 3, 4. ' The voice of him that crietli in the 
wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the 
desert a high way for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and 
every mountain and liill shall be made low, and tlie crooked shaL 
be made straight, and the rough places plain.' Cli. xliv. ver. 23. 
' Break forth into singing, ye mountains ! O forest, and evei^ 
tree therein ! for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob.' 

9 Ch. xl. ver. 3, 4. 

10 Isaiah, ch. xlii. ver. 18 ; ch. xxxv. ver. 5, 6. 

11 Ch. XXV. ver. 8. 

12 Ch. xl. ver. 11. 



140 MESSIAH 

55 Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, 
The promis'd Father ^^ of the future age. 
No more shalP^ nation against nation rise, 
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes, 
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er, 

60 The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more; 
But useless lances into scythes shall bend, 
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end. 
Then palaces shall rise; the joyfuP^ son 
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun; 

65 Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield. 
And the same hand that sow'd shall reap the field : 
The swain in barren ^*^ deserts with surprise 
See lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; ^^ 
And start, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear 

70 New falls of water murm'ring in his ear. 
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes. 
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods; 
Waste ^^ sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn, 
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn; 

75 To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed, 
And od'rous myrtle to the noisome weed. 
The lambs ^^ with wolves shall graze the verdant 

mead, 
And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead ; ^ 
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, 

80 And harmless serpents ^^ lick the pilgrim's feet; 
The smiling infant in his hand shall take 
The crested basilisk and speckled snake, 
Pleas 'd, the green lustre of the scales survey. 
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play. 



IMITATIONS 141 

13 Ch. ix. ver. 6. i* Isaiah, ch. ii. ver. 4. 

AS Ch. Ixv. ver. 21, 22. i^ ch. xxxv. ver. 1, 7. 

17 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 28. 

' Molli paulatira flavescet campus arista, 
Incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva, 
Et durse quercus sudabunt roscida mella. ' 

' The fields shall grow yellow with ripened ears, and the red 
grape shall hang upon the wild brambles, and the hard oaks shall 
distil honey like dew.' 

Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 7. 'The parched ground shall become a 
pool, and the thirsty land springs of water : in the habitation of 
dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes.' 
Ch. Iv. ver. 13. ' Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, 
and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree.' 

18 Isaiah, ch. xli. ver. 19, and ch. Iv. ver, 13. 

19 Ch. xi. ver. 6, 7, 8. 

20 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 21. 

' IpspB lacte domum referent distenta capellsB 
Ubera, nee magnos metuent armenta leones. . . . 
Oecidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni 
Occidet.' — 

' The goats shall bear to the fold their udders distended with 
milk : nor shall the herds be afraid of the greatest lions. The ser- 
pent shall die, and the herb that conceals poison shall die.' 

Isaiah, ch. xi. ver. 6, etc. 'The wolf also shall dwell with the 
lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf, and 
the young lion, and the falling together ; and a little child shall 
lead them. — And the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the 
sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned 
child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den.' 

21 Ch. Ixv. ver. 25. 



142 MESSIAH 

85 Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem,^^ rise !^^ 
Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes ! 
See a long race^^ thy spacious courts adorn; 
See future sons and daughters, yet unborn, 
In crowding ranks on every side arise, 

90 Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! 
See barb'rous nations-' at thy gates attend, 
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ! 
See thy bright altars throng 'd with prostrate kings, 
And heap'd with products of Sabsean^^ springs; 

95 For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, 
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow; 
See Heav'n its sparkling portals wide display. 
And break upon thee in a flood of day ! 
No more the rising sun ^^ shall gild the morn, 
100 Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 
But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays. 
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze 
O'erflow thy courts: the light himself shall shine 
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine ! 
105 The seas ^^ shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, 
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away; 
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains; — 
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! 



IMITATI02s^S 143 

22 Isaiah, cli. Ix. ver. 1. 

23 The thoughts of Isaiah, which compose the latter part of the 
poem, are wonderfully elevated, and much above those general ex- 
clamations of Virgil, which make the loftiest parts of his Pollio. 

' Magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo 

— toto surget gens aurea nnindo ! 

— incipient magni procedere menses ! 
Aspice, venturo Isetantur ut omnia saeclo ! ' etc. 

The reader needs only to turn to the passages of Isaiah here 
cited. 

24 Ch. Ix. ver. 4. 

25 Ch. Ix. ver. 3. 

26 Ch. Ix. ver. 6. 

27 Isaiah, ch. Ix. ver. 19, 20. 

28 Ch. ii. ver. 6, and ch. liv. ver. 10. 



144 ODE ON SOLITUDE 



ODE ON SOLITUDE° (1703?) 

Happy the man whose wish and care 

A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air 
In his own ground. 

5 Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire, 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

Bless'd who can unconcern'dly find 
lo Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 

In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day; 

Sound sleep by night : study and ease 
Together mix'd; sweet recreation; 
15 And innocence, which most does please, 
With meditation. 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, 

Thus unlamented let me die; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
20 Tell where I lie. 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL 145 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS 
SOUL° (1702) 



Vital spark of heav'nly flame, 
Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame ! 
Trembhng, hoping, hng'ring, flying, 
Oh, the pain, the bhss of dying ! 
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

II 

Hark! they whisper; Angels say, 
Sister Spirit, come away. 
What is this absorbs me quite. 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my Soul ! can this be death ? 



Ill 

The world recedes; it disappears; 

Heav'n opens on my eyes; my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring : 15 

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 

O Grave ! where is thy Victory ? 

Death ! where is thy Sting ? 



10 



146 ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKENHAM 

ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKENHAM° 

(1740) 

Thou who shalt stop where Thames' translucent wave 

Shines a broad mirror thro' the shadowy cave; 

Where hng ring drops from min'ral roofs distil; 

And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill ; 
5 Unpolish'd gems no ray on pride bestow, 

And latent metals innocently grow; 

Approach. Great Nature studiously behold ! 

And eye the mine without a wish for gold. 

Approach ; but awful ! lo ! the ^Egerian grot, 
lo Where, nobly pensive, St. John° sate and thought; 

Where British sighs from dying Wyndham° stole. 

And the bright flame was shot thro' Marchmont's soul. 

Let such, such only, tread this 'sacred floor. 

Who dare to love their country, and be poor. 

UNIVERSAL PRAYER° 

DEO APT. MAX. (1638) 

Father of all ! in ev'ry age, 

In ev'ry clime ador'd, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

5 Thou Great First Cause, least understood, 

Who all my sense confin'd 
To know but this, that thou art good, 
And that myself am blind : 



UNIVERSAL PRAYER 147 

Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 

To see the good from ill ; lo 

And binding Nature fast in Fate, 

Left free the human' Will. 



What Conscience dictates to be done, 

Or warns me not to do ; 
This teach me more than Hell to shun, is 

That more than Heav'n pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives 

Let me not cast away; 
For God is paid when man receives; 

T' enjoy is to obey. 20 

Yet not to earth's contracted span * 

Thy goodness let me bound. 
Or think thee Lord alone of man, 

When thousand worlds are round. 



Let not this weak unknowing hand 25 

Presume thy bolts to throw. 
And deal damnation rountl the land 

On each I judge thy foe. 

If I am right, thy grace impart. 

Still in the right to stay; 3° 

If I am wrong, O teach my heart 

To find that better way. 



148 UNIVERSAL PRAYER 

Save me alike from foolish Pride 

Or impious Discontent, 
At aught thy wisdom has denied, 

Or aught thy goodness lent. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the fault I see : 
That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

Mean tho' I am, not wholly so, 
Since quicken'd by thy breath; 

O lead me, whereso'er I go, 
Thro' this day's life or death ! 

This day be bread and peace my lot : 
All else beneath the sun 

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not. 
And let thy will be done. 

To Thee, whose temple is all Space, 
Whose altar earth, sea, skies. 

One chorus let all Being raise. 
All Nature's incense rise ! 



WINDSOR FORESr 

(1713) 

Thy forest, Windsor ! and thy green retreats, 
At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats. 
Invite my lays. Be present. Sylvan Maids ! 
Unlock your springs, and open all your shades. 
Gr anv ille° commsinds: your aid, Muses, bring ! 5 

What muse for Granville can refuse to sing ? 
The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long. 
Live in description, and look green in song : 
These, were my breast inspired with equal flame, 
Like them in Beauty, should be like in Fame. lo 

Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, 
Here earth and water seem to strive again; 
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd, 
But, as the world, harmoniously confused : 
Where order in variety we see, 15 

x-^nd where, tho' all things differ, all agree. 
Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display, 
And part admit, and part exclude the day; 
As some coy nymph her lover's warm address 
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress. 20 

There, interspers'd in lawns and opening glades, 
Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades. 
Here in full light the russet plains extend : 
There wrapt in clouds the bluish hills ascend. 

149 



150 WINDSOR FOREST 

25 Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, 
And 'midst the desert fruitful trees arise, 
That crown 'd with tufted trees and springing corn, 
Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn. 
Let India boast her plants, nor envy w^e 

30 The weeping amber or the balmy tree, 

While by our oaks the precious loads are borne, 
And realms commanded which those trees adorn. 
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, 
Tho' Gods assembled grace his tow'ring height, 

35 Than what more humble mountains offer here. 
Where, in their blessings, all those Gods appear. 
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd, 
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground. 
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, 

40 And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand; 
Rich Industry sits smiling on the plains. 
And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns. 
Not thus the land appear'd in ages past, 
A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste, 

45 To savage beasts and savage laws° a prey. 
And Kings more furious and severe than they; 
Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods, 
The lonely lords of empty Vv- ilds and woods : 
Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves 

50 (For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves) ; 
What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd, 
And ev'n the elements a Tyrant sway'd? 
In vain kind seasons swell 'd the teeming grain, 
Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warm in vain: 

55 The swain with tears his frustrate labour yields, 
And famish'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields. 



WINDSOR FOREST 151 

What wonder then, a beast or subject slain 

Were equal crimes in a despotic reign ? 

Both doomed alike, for sportive tyrants bled, 

But while the subject starv'd, the beast was fed. 60 

Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began, 

A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : 

Our haughty Norman boasts that barb'rous name, 

And makes his trembling slaves the royal game. 

The fields are ravish 'd° from th' industrious swains, 65 

From men their cities, and from Gods their fanes; 

The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er; 

The hollow winds thro' naked temples roar; 

Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd; 

O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind; 70 

The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires. 

And savage howlings fill the sacred quires. 

Aw'd by his nobles, by his commons curst, 

Th' Oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst, 

Stretch'd o'er the poor and church his iron rod, 75 

And serv'd alike his vassals and his God. 

Whom ev'n the Saxon spar'd, and bloody Dane, 

The wanton victims of his sport remain. 

But see, the man who spacious regions gave 

A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave° ! 80 

Stretch'd on the lawn his second hope° survey, 

At once the chaser, and at once the prey ! 

Lo Rufus,° tugging at the deadly dart, 

Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart ! 

Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects' cries, 85 

Nor saw displeas'd the peaceful cottage rise: 

Then gath'ring flocks on unknown mountains fed, 

O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread, 



152 WINDSOR FOREST 

The forest wonder'd at th' unusual grain, 

90 And secret transports touch 'd the conscious swain. 
Fair Liberty, Britannia's Goddess, rears 
Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years. 

Ye vig'rous Swains ! while youth ferments your bloody 
And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, 

95 Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, 
Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net. 
When milder Autumn Summer's heat succeeds, 
And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds, 
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds, 

100 Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds; 
But when the tainted gales the game betray, 
Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey: 
Secure they trust th' unfaithful field beset. 
Till hov'ring o'er them sweeps the swelling net. 

105 Thus (if small things we may with great compare) 
When Albion sends her eager sons to war, 
Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty blest, 
Near, and more near, the closing lines invest ; 
Sudden they seize th' amaz'd, defenceless prize, 

no And high in air Britannia's standard flies. 

See ! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs. 
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: 
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound. 
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. 

115 Ah ! what avafl his glossy, varying dyes. 
His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes. 
The vivid green his shining plumes unfold. 
His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold ? 
Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky, 

120 The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny. 



WINDSOR FOREST 153 

To plains with well-breathed beagles we repair, 

And trace the mazes of the circling hare 

(Beasts, urged by us, their fellow beasts pursue, 

And learn of man each other to undo). 

With slaught'ring guns th' unwearied fowler roves, 125 

When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves. 

Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade. 

And lonely woodcocks haunt the wat'ry glade. 

He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye; 

Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky : 130 

Oft, as in airy rings the}^ skim the heath. 

The clam'rous lapwings feel the leaden death ; 

Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare. 

They fall, and leave their little lives in air. 

In genial Spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade, 135 

Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, 
The patient fisher takes his silent stand, 
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand: 
With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly breed, 
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed. 140 

Our plenteous streams a various race supply. 
The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, 
The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, 
The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, 
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, 145 

And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains. 

Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car : 
The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, 
Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest v/alks surround, 
Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 150 

Th' impatient courser pants in every vein, 
A.nd, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : 



154 WINDSOR FOREST 

Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, 
And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. 

155 See the bold youth strain up the threat 'ning steep, 
Rush thro' the thickets, down the valleys sweep, 
Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed. 
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. 
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, 

160 Th' immortal huntress,° and her virgin train; 
Nor envy, Windsor ! since thy shades have seen 
As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a Queen°; 
Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign, 
The earth's fair light, and Empress of the Main. 

165 Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray 'd, 
And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade; 
Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, 
Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove; 
Here arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn, 

170 Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy lawn. 
Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, 
Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona named 
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast. 
The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last). 

175 Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph be known 
But by the crescent and the golden zone. 
She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care; 
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair; 
A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds, 

180 And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. 
It chanced as, eager of the chase, the maid 
Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd, 
Pan saw and lov'd, and, burning with desire. 
Pursued her flight; her flight increas'd his fire. 



WIXDSOR FOREST 155 

Not half so swift the trembhng doves can fly, 185 

When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky ; 

Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, 

When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves: 

As from the God she flew with furious pace, 

Or as the God, more furious, urged the chase. 190 

Now fainting, sinking, pale, the Nymph appears; 

Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears; 

And now his shadow reach 'd her as she run, 

His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun; 

And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, 195 

Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair. 

In vain on Father Thames she calls for aid. 

Nor could Diana help her injur 'd maid. 

Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain: 

' Ah, Cynthia ! ah — tho' banish'd from thy train, 200 

Let me, let me, to the shades repair, 

My native shades — there weep, and murmur there ! ' 

She said, and melting as in tears she lay, 

In a soft silver stream dissolv'd away. 

The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, 205 

For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps; 

Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,° 

And bathes the forest where she ranged before. 

In her chaste current oft the Goddess laves, 

And with celestial tears augments the waves. 21c 

Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies° 

The headlong mountains and the downward skies ; 

The wat'ry landscape of the pendant woods. 

And absent trees that tremble in the floods : 

In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, 215 

And floating forests paint the waves with green; 



156 WINDSOR FOREST 

Thro' the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams, 
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames. 
Thou, too, great Father of the British Floods ! 

220 With joyful pride survey 'st our lofty woods; 
Where tow 'ring oaks their growing honours rear, 
And future navies on thy shores appear. 
Not Neptune's self from all his streams receives 
A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. 

225 No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, 
No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear. 
Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays, 
While led along the skies his current strays, 
As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes, 

230 To grace the mansion of our earthly Gods : 
Nor all his stars above a lustre show, 
Like the bright beauties on thy banks below; 
Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still, 
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill. 

235 Happy the man whom this bright court approves. 
His Sov'reign favours, and his Country loves° : 
Happy next him, who to these shades retires, 
Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires: 
Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, 

240 Successive study, exercise, and ease. 

He gathers health from herbs the forest yields. 
And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields : 
With chemic art exalts the mmeral powers. 
And draws the aromatic souls of flowers : 

245 Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high ; 
O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye; 
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store, 
Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er: 



WINDSOR FOREST 157 

Or wand 'ring thoughtful in the silent wood, 

Attends the duties of the wise and good, 250 

T' observe a mean, be to himself a friend, 

To follow Nature, and regard his end; 

Or looks on Heav'n with more than mortal eyes, 

Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies, 

Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, 255 

Survey the region, and confess her home ! 

Such was the life great Scipio once admired : — 

Thus Atticus, and Tritmhull thus retired. 

Ye sacred Nine ! that all my soul possess. 
Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, 260 

Bear me, O bear me to sequester'd scenes. 
The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens; 
To Thames 's banks, which fragrant breezes fill, 
Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's hill.° 
(On Cooper's hill eternal wreaths shall grow, 265 

While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow.) 
I seem thro' consecrated walks to rove; 
I hear soft music die along the grove : 
Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade. 
By godlike Poets venerable made : 270 

Here his first lays majestic Denham° sung ; 
There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley 's° tongue. 
Oh early lost ! what tears the river shed, 
When the sad pomp along his banks was led ! 
His drooping swans on every note expirQ, 275 

And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre. 

Since Fate relentless stopp'd their heav'nl}^ voice, 
No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice; 
Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung 
His living harp, and lofty Denham sung ? 280 



158 WINDSOR FOREST 

But hark ! the groves rejoice, the forest rings ! 
Are these revived, or is it Granville sings ? 
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats. 
And call the Muses to their ancient seats; 

285 To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes, 
To crown the forests with immortal greens. 
Make Windsor-hills in lofty numbers rise. 
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies; 
To sing those honours you deserve to wear, 

290 And add new lustre to her silver star ! 

Here noble Surrey° felt the sacred rage, 
Surrey, the Granville of a former age : 
Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, 
Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance : 

295 In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre, 
To the same notes of love and soft desire; 
Fair Geraldine,° bright object of his vow. 
Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Mira° now. 
Oh wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, 

300 What Kings first breathed upon her winding shore. 
Or raise old warriors, whose ador'd remains 
In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains ! 
With Edward 's° acts adorn the shining page. 
Stretch his long triumphs down thro' every age, 

305 Draw Monarchs chain'd,° and Cressi's° glorious fielc 
The lilies blazing on the regal shield : 
Then, from her r^ofs when Verrio's° colours fall, 
And leave inanimate the naked wall. 
Still in thy song should vanquished France appear, 

310 x\nd bleed for ever under Britain's spear. 
Let softer strains ill-fated Henry° mourn, 
And palms eternal flourish round his urn. 



WINDSOR FOREST 159 

Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps, 

And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward° sleeps, 

Whom not th' extended Albion could contain, 315 

From old Bellerium° to the northern main ; 

The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest. 

And blended lie th' oppressor and th' opprest ! 

Make sacred Charles 's° tomb for ever known 
(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone) ; 320 

Oh fact accurs'd ! what tears has Albion shed, 
Heav'ns ! what new wounds ! and how her old have bled ! 
She saw her sons with purple death expire,° 
Her sacred domes involv'd in rolling fire, 
A dreadful series of intestine wars, 325 

Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars. 
At length great Anna said, 'Let discord cease !' 
She said ! the world obey'd, and all was peace ! 

In that blest moment from his oozy bed 
Old father Thames advanced his rev 'rend head; 330 

His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream 
His shining horns diffused a golden gleam : 
Graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides 
His swelling waters and alternate tides; 
The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd, 335 

And on her banks Augusta° rose in gold. 
Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood, 
Who swell with tributary urns his flood : 
First the famed authors of his ancient name; 
The winding Isis, and the fruitful Thame; 340 

The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd ; 
The Lodden slow% with verdant alders crown'd; 
Cole, whose dark streams his flov/ery islands lave; 
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave: 



160 WINDSOR FOREST 

345 The blue, transparent Vandalis° appears; 
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears; 
And sullen Mole,° that hides his diving flood; 
And silent Darent, stain 'd with Danish flood. 
High in the midst, upon his arm reclin'd 

350 (His sea-green mantle waving with the wind), 
The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes 
Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise; 
Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar, 
And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore. 

355 'Hail, sacred Peace° ! hail, long-expected days, 
That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise ! 
Tho' Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, 
Tho' foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold, 
From Heav'n itself tho' sev'nfold Nilus flows,° 

360 And harvests on a hundred realms bestows ; 
These now no more shall be the Muse's themes, 
Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. 
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine, 
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine; 

365 Let barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train. 
Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign. 
No more my sons shall dye with British blood 
Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood : 
Safe on my shore each unmolested swain 

370 Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain; 
The shady empire shall retain no trace 
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase; 
The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown. 
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone. 

375 Behold ! th' ascending villas on my side 
Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide; 



WiynSOR FOREST 1(31 

Behold ! Augusta's glitt'ring spires increase,° 

And temples rise,, the beauteous works of Peace. 

I see, I see, where two fair cities bend 

Their ample brow, a new Whitehall ascend ! 380 

There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, 

The world's great oracle in times to come; 

There Kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen 

Once more" to bend before a British Queen. 

' Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods, 385 
And half thy forests rush into my floods. 
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross° display 
To the bright regions of the rising day ; 
Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, 
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole ; 390 

Or under southern skies exalt their sails. 
Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales ! 
t or me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, 
The coral redden, and the ruby glow, 

The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, 395 

And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold. _ 
The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind, 
Unbounded Thames° shall flow for all mankind, 
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, 
And seas but join the regions they divide ; 400 

Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold. 
And the new world launch forth to seek the old. 
Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, 
And feather 'd people crowd my wealthy side ; 
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire • 405 

Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire ! 
O stretch thy reign, fair Peace ! from shore to shore, 
Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more; 

M 



1G2 WINDSOR FOREST 

Till the freed Indians in their native groves 

410 Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves; 
Peru once more a race of kings behold, 
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold. 
Exiled by thee from earth to deepest Hell, 
In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell: 

415 Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, 
And mad Ambition shall attend her there : 
There purple Vengeance, bathed in gore, retires, 
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires : 
There hated Envy her own snakes shall feel, 

420 And Persecution mourn her broken wheel : 
There Faction roar. Rebellion bite her chain, 
And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.' 

Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays 
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days : 

425 The thoughts of Gods let Granville's verse recite, 
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light, 
My humble Muse, in unambitious strains. 
Paints the green forests and the flowery plains, 
Where Peace descending bids her olives spring, 

430 And scatters blessings from her dovelike wing. 
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days, 
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise; 
Enough for me that to the list'ning swains 
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The student will find the following books helpful in the study of 

Pope : — 
Alexander Pope, by Leslie Stephens, in English Men of Letters. 
Age of Pope, The, John Dennis. 
Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, edited by Henry W. 

Boynton, Cambridge Edition. 
Dictionary of Biography, The. 
Elwin and Courthope's Pope. 

Essay on Man, The, Mark Pattison, Clarendon Press. 
History of English Literature in the Eighteenth Century, Edmund 

Gosse. 
Life of Alexa,nder Pope, "W. J. Courthope. 
Pope, in my vStudy AVindows, James Pussell Lowell. 
Pope, in Biographical Essays, De Quincey. 
Pope, by Thomas R. Lounsbury, in the World's Best Literature. 



163 



NOTES 

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 
Canto I 

This poem, it appears, was written at the request of Pope's 
friend, Mr. Carryl, and published in 1712, with the consent of the 
heroine herself. Mr. Carryl proposed the writing of the poem 
with the view of putting to an end, by this ridicule, a quarrel that 
had risen between two noble families, — that of Lord Petre and 
that of Miss Fermor, whom the former had offended by cutting off 
a lock of her hair. The author sent the poem to the lady, who 
was an acquaintance of his, and she was so well pleased with it 
that she gave copies of it around to her friends. The first sketch 
was written in two cantos ; but encouraged by his success. Pope 
conceived the idea of introducing the sylphs and gnomes, and ex- 
tended it to five cantos. 

The following is the letter written by Pope in the Dedication : — 

" TO MRS. ARABELLA TERMOR 

" Madam, — It will be in vain to deny that I have some regard for 
this piece, since I dedicate it to you. Yet you may bear me wit- 
ness it was intended only to divert a few young ladies, who have 
good sense and good humour enough to laugh not only at their 
sex's little unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it was com- 
municated with the air of a secret, it soon found its way into the 
world. An imperfect copy having been offer'd to a bookseller, 

you had the good-nature for my sake, to consent to the publication 

165 



166 I^OTES [PageI 

of one more correct : this I was forced to, before I had executed 
half my design, for the Machinery was entirely wanting to com- 
plete it. 

"The Machinery, Madam, is a term invented by the critics, to 
signify that part which the Deities, Angels, or Dsemons, are made 
to act in a poem : for the ancient poets are in one respect like 
many modern ladies ; let an action be never so trivial in itself, 
they always make it appear of the utmost importance. These 
Machines I determined to raise on a very new and odd foundation, 
the Rosicrucian doctrine of Spirits. 

" I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard words before 
a lady ; but it is so much the concern of a poet to have his works 
understood, and particularly by your sex, that you must give me 
leave to explain two or three difficult terms. The Rosicrucians are 
a people I must bring you acquainted with. The best account I 
know of them is in a French book called La Comte de Gabalis, 
which, both in its title and size, is so like a novel, that many of 
the fair sex have read it for one by mistake. According to these 
gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by Spirits, which they 
call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes, or 
Daemons of earth, delight in mischief ; but the Sylphs, whose habi- 
tation is in the air, are the best-conditioned creatures imaginable ; 
for, they say, any mortal may enjoy the most intimate familiar- 
ities with these gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true 
adepts, — an inviolate preservation of chastity. 

" As to the following cantos, all the passages of them are as fabu- 
lous as the Vision at the beginning, or the Transformation at the 
end (except the loss of your hair, which I always mention with 
reverence). The human persons are as fictitious as the airy ones ; 
and the character of Belinda, as it is now managed, resembles you 
in nothing but in beauty. 

"If this poem had as many graces as there are in your person or 



Page 1-2] RAPE OF THE LOCK, CANTO I 167 

in your mind, yet I could never hope it should pass thro' the world 
half so uncensured as you have done. But let its fortune be what 
it will, mine is happy enough, to have given me this occasion of 
assuring you that I am, with the truest esteem, Madam, 
" Your most obedient, humble servant, 

"A. Pope." 

The title Mrs., not Miss, was prefixed to the names of unmarried 
ladies as well as to those of married ladies. Miss being used only 
for children and young girls not grown up. Miss Fermor, in 1714, 
married Mr. Perkins of Reading. She died in 1738. 

1. Note how the opening lines suggest the Epic. Cf. with the 
opening lines of the Iliad: — 

" Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring 
Of woes unnumbered, heav'nly goddess, sing." 

Or with the Odyssey : — 

"Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and 
wide, after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy." 

Or with the ^Eneid : — 

" I sing of arms and the hero who first from the shores of Troy," etc. 

Also cf. the opening lines of Paradise Lost. 

3. Carryl. The friend who suggested writing the poem. 

4. Belinda. Miss Fermor. 
8. The Lord was Lord Petre. 

23. Birthnight Beau. A fine gentleman such as might appear at 
a ball given in honor of a royal birthday. 

32. The silver token. The coin found in the shoe of the tidy 
housemaid. 

The circled green. The fairy rings in the grass where the fairies 
were supposed to have danced. 



168 NOTES [Pages 2-12 

44. The Box at the opera ; the Ring, the circle in Hyde Park, 
London. 

85. Garters, stars, and coronets are emblems of rank and honor. 
108. The clear mirror, etc. The language of the Platonists 
(Pope). 
135. The elephant. The ivory from the elephant's tusk. 

Canto II 

8. Might kiss . . . adore. Because of its richness and value. 
28. Single hair. An allusion to Hudibras : — 

" And though it be a two-foot trout 
'Tis with a single hair pulled out." 

38. Vast French romances. Some of the French romances of 
the day were in ten volumes, of about eight hundred pages each. 

45. See the ^mid, XI, 794-795. 

74. In imitation of Satan's call. Paradise Lost, V, 601. 
"Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers." 
107. Note the anti-climax. 
113. The drops. Ear-rings of brilliants. 
116. Shock. Her favourite dog ? 
133. See Ixion in the Myths. 

Canto III 
3. Hampton Court. 

22. An allusion to a line from Congreve. 

27. Ombre. A Spanish card game then fashionable in England. 
33. Matadores, named from the slayers in the bull fight, were 
the principal trump cards. 

49. Spadillo. The ace of spades, and the highest trump. 
51. Manillo. The second highest trump. 



Pages 12-17] RAPE OF THE LOCK, CANTO IV 169 

53. Basto. The third highest trump. 

62. Pam and Leo are obsolete card games. 

92. Codille. The pool. Belinda, having made the trump, loses 
the pool and must replace it for the next game if she fails to win 
more tricks than her opponents. 

106. It was fashionable to grind and make the coffee in the 
drawing-room. 

107. Altars of Japan. Small japanned tables, 

124. Nisus, king of Megara, had on his head a certain purple 
lock, and by r. decree of the fates could not be conquered so long 
as it remained unshorn. When Minos, king of Crete, made war 
upon Megara, Scylla, the daughter of Nisus, seeing him from a 
high tower, at once fell in love with him. Having resolved to give 
up the city to him, she crept by night to her father's sleeping 
room, cut off the fatal lock, took it to Minos, and told him that 
Megara was now his own. That king, however, shrank from her 
in abhorrence, made an equitable treaty with Nisus, and sailed 
away. Scylla was metamorphosed into a bird, and ever after pur- 
sued by her father, who had likewise been changed to a sea-eagle. 

152. Cf. Paradise Lost, VI, 330-334. 

160. Cf. the anticlimax in Canto II, v. 106, and Canto IV, 
V. 120. Find others. 

165. Atalantis. A popular book of the time. 

166. Visitors were sometimes received in ladies' bedrooms, at 
which times the beds were decorated with handsome counterpanes 
and small, lace-trimmed pillows. 

171. Does Pope mean Richard Steele ? Is this a pun ? 

Canto IV 

1. Cf. the J^neid, IV, 1. 

24. Megrim. The "megrims" and the "vapours" were, in 
Queen Anne's day, popular terms for what we call "the blues." 



170 NOTES [Pages 18-26 

51. Homer's tripod. See the 7/^(7, XVIII, 372-381. 

52. " Alludes to the fact that a certain lady once imagined her- 
self in this condition " (Pope). 

69. Citron water was distilled from citron rind. 

82. In Bk. X of the Odyssey^ Ulysses tells how tEoIus gave him 
the winds tied up in a bag, which, his men untying, flew out and 
wrecked his ships. 

89. Thalestris. Mrs. Morley, sister of Sir Plume. See v. 121. 

102. Lead fasteners for the curl papers. 

118. The Bow. A most unfashionable quarter of London. 

121. Sir Plume. Sir George Brown, the only person mentioned 
who took the matter seriously. He was angry at his portrait here 
given, because he says nothing but foolishness. 

162. Patches of black " court" plaster were a part of the femi- 
nine adornment. Whig ladies wore them on one side of the face, 
Tory ladies on the other. 

Canto V 

6. See the JEJneicL Anna was the sister of Dido. 

14. The gentlemen occupied the side boxes, the ladies the front 
boxes, at the theatre. 

71. Cf. the Iliad, VIII, and the ^neid, XII. 

99-106. In imitation of the Iliad, II, the progress of Agamem- 
non's sceptre. 

137. Partridge. John Partridge, a so-called astronomer and 
almanac maker, who yearly predicted the downfall of the Pope 
at Rome and the king of France. Swift made him the butt of a 
famous hoax, in 1707. 

138. What were Galileo's eyes ? 



Page 27] AN ESSAY ON MAN 171 

AN ESSAY ON MAN 

The following is a part of Pope's preface to the poem : — 

" THE DESIGN 

" Having proposed to write some pieces on Human Life and 
Manners, such as, to use my Lord Bacon's expression, 'come 
home to men's business and bosoms,' I thought it more satisfac- 
tory to begin with considering Man in the abstract, his nature and 
his state : since to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral 
precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any crea- 
ture whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and 
relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of 
its being. 

"The science of Human Nature is, like all other sciences, reduced 
to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this 
world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind, as in that of 
the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the 
large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much 
such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of 
which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all 
upon these last ; and, I will venture to say, they have less sharp- 
ened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have 
diminished the practice more than advanced the theory of morality. 
If I could flatter myself that this Essay has any merit, it is in steer- 
ing betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in pass- 
ing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a temperate, 
yet not inconsistent, and a short, yet not imperfect, system of 
ethics." 



172 NOTES Page 27 



Epistle I 

ARGUMENT 

Of 3Ian in the abstract. I. That we can judge only with regard 
to our own system, being ignorant of the relations of systems and 
things, verse 17, etc. II. That Man is not to be deemed imperfect, 
but a being suited to his place and rank in the creation, agreeable 
to the general order of things, and conformable to ends and rela- 
tions to him unknown, verse 35, etc. III. That it is partly upon 
his ignorance of future events, and partly upon the hope of a future 
state, that all his happiness in the present depends, verse 77, etc. 
IV. The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to 
more perfection, the cause of Man's error and misery. The impiety 
of putting himself in the place of God, and judging of the fitness 
or unfitness, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice, of his 
dispensations, verse 113, etc. V. The absurdity of conceiting him- 
self the final cause of the creation, or expecting that perfection in 
the moral world which is not in the natural, verse 131, etc. 
VI. The unreasonableness of his complaints against Providence, 
while, on the one hand, he demands the perfections of the angels, 
and, on the other, the bodily qualifications of the brutes ; though 
to possess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher degree would 
render him miserable, verse 173, etc. VII. That throughout the 
whole visible world a universal order and gradation in the sensual 
and mental faculties is observed, which causes a subordination of 
creature to creature, and of all creatures to man. The gradations 
of Sense, Instinct, Thought, Reflection, Reason : that Reason alone 
countervails all the other faculties, verse 207, etc. VIII. How 
much further this order and subordination of living creatures may 
extend above and below us ; were any part of which broken, not 



Pages 27-36] AN ESSAY ON MAN, EPISTLE I 173 

that part only, but the whole connected creation must be destroyed, 
verse 213, etc. IX. The extravagance, madness, and pride of such 
a desire, verse 209, etc. X. The consequence of all, the absolute 
submission due to Providence, both as to our present and future 
state, verse 281, etc., to the end. 

1. St. John. Lord Bolingbroke, one of Pope's most intimate 
friends, one with whom he had discussed the themes of the Essay. 
Bolingbroke is said to have supplied much of the substance of the 
argument. For his career, see the history of England. 

6. A mighty maze. Lowell thinks the line as first written better 
expresses Pope's view, i.e.: — 

" A mighty maze of walk without a plan." 

16. Cp. Paradise Lost : — 

" Aud justify the ways of God to man." 

33. Alludes to the chain which Homer refers to as supporting 
the world. 

03. Apis. The ox was worshipped in Egypt under the name of 
Apis. 

88. See St. 3Iatthew x, 29. 

102. Solar walk. The sun's orbit; in allusion to the ancient 
idea that souls went thither. 

144. Lisbon. Spain, suffered from such an earthquake, 1755. 

156. Cssar Borgia, d. 1507, known as the scourge of Italy. 

Catiline, the conspirator opposed by Cicero. 

160. Alexander the Great, declared by the priests of Libya to 
be the son of Jupiter Amnion. 

213. In a note. Pope states that the lioness, on first starting out, 
utters a loud roar and then listens to hear the prey running from 
her, pursuing it by sound rather than by scent. 

278. Seraph. The word signifies "burner." 



174 NOTES [Pages 36-43 



Epistle II 



ARGUMENT 



I. The business of Man not to pry into God, but to study him- 
self. His middle nature ; his powers and frailties, verses 1 to 19. 
The limits of his capacity, verse 19, etc. II. The two principles 
of Man, Self-love and Reason, both necessary. Self-love the 
stronger, and why. Their end the same, verse 81, etc. III. The 
Passions, and their use. The predominant passion, and its force. 
Its necessity, in directing men to different purposes. Its provi- 
dential use, in fixing our principle, and ascertaining our virtue, 
verse 93, etc. IV. Virtue and Vice joined in our mixed nature ; 
the limits near, yet the things separate and evident : what is the 
office of Reason, verse 203, etc. V. How odious Vice in itself, and 
how we deceive ourselves into it, verse 217, etc. VI. That, how- 
ever, the ends of Providence, and general goods, are answered in 
our passions and imperfections. How usefully these are distributed 
to all orders of men : how useful they are to Society ; and to indi- 
viduals ; in every state, and every age of life, verse 238, etc., to 
the end. 

22. Correct old Time. Alludes to Newton's Grecian chronology, 

108. The card on which the points of the compass are marked, 
signifying the compass itself. 

200. Decius rushed to death in battle because a vision had 
informed him that the army whose general should fall would be 
victorious. 

Curtius leaped into the gulf which would not close until the most 
precious thing in Rome, an armed and mounted soldier, had been 
cast in. 

204. God within the mind. Conscience. Plato's expression. 



Pages 45-49] AN ESSAY ON MAN, EPISTLE III 175 

269. Chymist. The alchemist in search of the philosopher's 
stone. 

275-281. Behold the child, etc. Cf. Wordsworth's Intimations 
of Immortality. 

Epistle III 

ARGUMENT 

I. The whole Universe one system of Society. Nothing made 
wholly for itself, nor yet wholly for another. The happiness of 
animals mutual, verse 7, etc. II. Reason or Instinct operates 
alike to the good of each individual. Reason or Instinct operates 
also to Society in all animals, verse 49, etc. III. How far So- 
ciety carried by Instinct ; — how much farther by reason, verse 
109, etc. IV. Of that which is called the state of nature. Reason 
instructed by Instinct in the invention of arts ; and in the forms 
of Society, verse 144, etc. V. Origin of political societies; — 
origin of Monarchy ; — patriarchal government, verse 199, etc. 
VI. Origin of true Religion and Government, from the same 
principle of Love ; — origin of Superstition and Tyranny, from 
the same principle of Fear. The influence of Self-love operating 
to the social and public good. Restoration of true Religion and 
Government on their first principle. Mixed government. Vari- 
ous forms of each, and the true end of all, verse 215, etc. 

68. Favour'd of man. It was a common ancient, and is still an 
Oriental, belief that those struck by lightning are especially favored 
by the gods. 

104. Demoivre, an eminent French mathematician and friend of 
Newton (1G67-1754). Driven from France by the revocation of 
the Edict of Nantes, he went to London, where he died. 



176 NOTES ' [Pages 56-57 



Epistle IV 

ARGUMENT ' 

I. False notions of Happiness, philosophical and popular, an- 
swered, from verses 19 to 26. II. It is the end of all men, and 
attainable by all. God intends Happiness to be equal ; and, to be 
so, it must be social, since all particular Happiness depends on 
general, and since he governs by general, not particular laws. As 
it is necessary for order, and the peace and welfare of Society, 
that external goods should be unequal, Happiness is not made .to 
consist in these. But notwithstanding that inequality, the balance 
of Happiness among mankind is kept even by Providence, by the 
two passions of Hope and Fear, verse 29, etc. III. What the 
Happiness of individuals is, as far as is consistent with the consti- 
tution of this world ; and that the good man has here the advan- 
tage. The error of imputing to virtue what are only the calamities 
of Nature, or of Fortune, verse 77, etc. IV. The folly of expect- 
ing that God should alter his general laws in favour of particulars, 
verse 123, etc. V. That we are not judges who are good ; but that 
whoever they are, they must be happiest, verse 131, etc. VI. That 
external goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconsistent 
with, or destructive of. Virtue. That even these can make no man 
happy without Virtue: — instanced in Riches; Honours; Nobil- 
ity ; Greatness ; Fame ; Superior Talents, with pictures of human 
infelicity in men possessed of them all, verse 149, etc. VII. That 
Virtue only constitutes a Happiness, whose object is universal, and 
whose prospect eternal. That the perfection of Virtue and Happi- 
ness consists in a conformity to the Order of Providence here, and 
a resignation to it here and hereafter, verse 327, etc. 

26. Doubt of all. The Sceptics. 



Pages 5i^3] AN ESSAY ON MAN, EPISTLE IV 177 

74. Mountains piled on mountains. According to mythology 
the Titans piled Ossa on I'elion in their attempt to scale Olympus. 

99. Falkland. Lord Falkland (1610-1643), a brilliant young 
statesman killed in the battle of Newburg. 

100-101. Henry, Vicomte of Turenne, and Sir Philip Sidney 
both fell in battle ; both are famed for their bravery and unself- 
ishness. 

104. Digby. The Honourable Robert Digby, on v/hom Pope 
wrote an epitaph. He was a friend and correspondent of 
Pope's. 

107. Marseilles. M. de Belsance, who became bishop of Mar- 
seilles in 1709, distinguished himself by his zeal during the plague 
of 1720, at which time he acted as pastor, physician, and magis- 
trate to his flock. Though offered a more desirable bishopric in 
1723, he refused to leave the people endeared to him by suffering. 
He died in 1755. 

110. The poet's mother, Edith Pope, died at the age of ninety- 
one, in the year this poem was finished. See biography of Pope 
for his affection toward her. 

123. Sages. An allusion to the fate of Empedocles and Pliny, 
both of whom perished by too near an approach to Etna and 
Vesuvius, while exploring the cause of the eruptions. 

126. Mr. Bethel, a friend of Pope's, to whom Imitations of 
Horace are addressed. 

130. F. Chartres, an infamous gambler who became rich and 
avaricious and was hated by every one; d. 1731. 

146. It is said that Titus, one evening on recollecting that he 
had done no good to any one person that day, exclaimed, " I have 
lost a day." 

216. Howard. One of England's proudest families. 

220. Alexander the Great went insane before his death. 
Charles XII of Sweden could scarcely be compared with Alexan- 

N 



178 NOTES [Pages G4-70 

der, who was capable of forethought and could certainly see much 
" farther than his nose." 

235. Aurelius. M. Aurelius Antoninus, Emperor of Rome, 161- 

180 A.D. 

236. As Socrates died by drinking hemlock, Pope uses "bleed " 
in a metaphorical sense. Lowell believes that here, as in 220-224, he 
has been tempted into epigrammatic expression. 

244. Prince Eugene of Savoy, who fought with Marlborough at 
Blenheim and Malplaquet. Napoleon ranked him with Turenne 
and Frederick the Great as a general. He was living when this 
poem was published. 

257. Marcellus was an enemy of Julius Caesar who, after the 
battle of Pharsalus, fled to Mitylene. It is supposed that he here 
stands for the Duke of Ormund, who, at the death of Queen Anne, 
fled £rom England to join the Pretender. 

278. Lord Umbra. Bubb Dodington, afterward Lord Melcombe. 
Here, as in the Epistle to Arhiithnot (v. 280), his name is coupled 
with that of Sir William Yonge. 

281. Lord Bacon, though possessed of distinguished talents, 
was condemned for and confessed bribery and corruption while 
presiding in the Supreme Court of Equity. 

301-308. Alludes to the Duke of Marlborough, whose wife Sarah 
possessed a terrible temper. 

373. Friend. Bolingbroke. See note to v. 1, Epistle I. 

AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 

This, the first mature original work of the author, was written 
in 1709, when Pope was in his twentieth year. It was not pub- 
lished till 1711. 

Part I 

Introduction. — That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write 
ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is 



Pages 70-74] AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM, PART I 179 

as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born 
with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude 
of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own 
Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judg- 
ment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized 
Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. 
That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, 
particularly Homer and Vergil. Of licenses, and the use of them 
by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them. 

4. Sense. Judgment. 

15. Such. I.e. those. Such is the antecedent of wlio. 

20. Most. Persons must be supplied here. 

26. Different schools or systems of philosophy, etc. 

34. Maevius. This inferior poet of the Augustan age owes his 
present fame to the fact that Vergil and Horace, whom he at- 
tacked, made him the subject of ridicule. 

Apollo. The president and defender of the Muses. 

35. Those who. 

36. Wits. Men of learning. 

43. Generation. Origin ; an allusion to the belief that insects 
were generated in the mud of the Nile. 
66. Sev'ral. Peculiar, separate. 

72. Nature is the subject of must impart. What is the object ? 

73. Art. In apposition with Nature. 
80. Wit. Genius. 

84. 'Tis more to guide. I.e. it is more important to guide. 
86. Pegasus, the winged steed of the Muses. 
92. Indites. Produces, composes. 
109. Bills. I.e. prescriptions. 
120. Fable. I.e. plot. 

129. Vergil was born at Mantua, 70 b.c. His full name was Pub- 
lius Vergilius Maro. 



180 NOTES [Pages 74-80 

133. But. I.e. except. 

138. Aristotle was born at Stagira in Macedonia, hence the 
name the Stagirite. 

142. Elegance or felicity of expression. 

158. Prospects. Landscapes. 

182-183. Pope here alludes to the four principal causes of ravages 
among the ancient writings : the destruction of the Alexandrine 
and Palatine libraries by fire ; the rage of the lesser poets against 
wit ; the invasions of the barbarians ; and the reign of ignorance 
and superstition during long ages. 

Part II 

Causes hindering a true judgment. Pride. Imperfect learning. 
Judging by parts, and not by the whole. Critics in wit, language, 
versification only. Being too hard to please, or too apt to admire. 
Partiality — too much love to a sect — to the ancients or moderns. 
Prejudice or prevention. Singularity. Inconstancy. Party spirit. 
Envy. Against envy, and in praise of good-nature. When sever- 
ity is chiefly to be used by critics. 

16. Pierian. From Mt. Pierus in Thessaly, sacred to the Muses. 

37. Malignant dull delight. Of seeking to find faults. 

48. Thine, Rome ! St. Peter's dome. 

67. La Mancha's Knight. Don Quixote. 

70. Dennis. A mediocre poet with whom Pope quarrelled. 

86. Curious, nice. Hard to please. 

89. Conceit. Here used in the sense of an affected or fanciful 
notion. 

108. Content. By acquiescence without examination. 

122. Sort. Are suited. 

128. Fungoso. A character in one of Ben Jonson's plays who 
assumed the dress and tried to pass for another. 

129. Sparks. Gay, showy persons. 



Pages 80-84] ^.Y ESSAY ON CRITICISM, PART II 181 

137. Most. Supply persons. 

144, These. The subject of require. 

146. A reference to Dryden's Essay on Dramatic Poetry, in 
which he inveighs against the poet who " creeps along with ten 
little words in a line and helps out his numbers with all the exple- 
tives he can find, while the sense is left half tired behind." 

156. An Alexandrine is a line of twelve syllables, so named 
from a French poem on Alexander written in that form. Verse 157 
is an Alexandrine. 

161. Sir John Denham (1615-1668) and Edmund Waller (1606- 
1687) wrote verses famed in their own day for strength and sweet- 
ness. 

172. Camilla, queen of the Volscians, who led her army 
against vEneas, was remarkable for her swiftness. She has been 
described as being so fleet that she flew over the corn without 
bending the stalks and over the water without wetting her feet. 

174. Timotheus. See Dryden's Alexander'' s Feast. 

176. Libyan Jove. See note to v. 160, Epistle I, of An Essay on 
Man. 

194. Some. The subject of despise. 

204. Each. Supply age. 

215. Quality. Those of high rank. 

224. The vulgar. The common people. 

240. School-divines. The schoolmen, or hair-splitting philoso- 
phers and divines of the Middle Ages, who adopted the principles 
of Aristotle and spent much time in speculations of so theoretical 
a nature as to seem absurd to modern philosophers. 

241. Sentences. That is, quotations from recognized authorities 
in the church. 

244. Scotists. Followers of Duns Scotus, a famous schoolman 
of the fourteenth century, who defended the immaculate concep- 
tion of the Virgin. 



182 NOTES [Pages 84-89 

Thomists. Followers of Thomas Aquinas, a contemporary of 
Scotus, who denied the immaculate conception. See note, v. 240. 

245. Ducklane. A place in London where old books were sold. 

263. Sir Richard Blackmore, a court physician in the reigns of 
William III and Anne, has been characterized as one of the 
"most voluminous poetasters of his own or any other age." 

Rev. Luke Milbourne. One of Dryden's most just critics. 

265. Zoilus. An ancient who severely criticised Homer. 

279. In antediluvian times. 

296. It refers to wit or genius. 

309. Commence or begin to be. 

336. The easy monarch was Charles II. 

345. Socinus. An Italian theologian of the sixteenth century 
who denied the deity of Christ, the Trinity, the personality of the 
devil, the total depravity of man, and the eternity of future 
punishment. 

Part III 

Rules for the conduct and manners in a Critic. Candour. Mod- 
esty, Good breeeding. Sincerity and freedom of advice. When 
one's counsel is to be restrained. Character of an incorrigible 
poet. And of an impertinent critic. Character of a good critic. 
The history of Criticism, and characters of the best critics ; Aris- 
totle. Horace. Dionysius. Petronius. Quintilian. Longinus. 
Of the decay of Criticism, and its revival. Erasmus. Vida. 
Boileau. Lord Roscommon, etc. Conclusion. 

26. Appius. Dennis ; see note, v. 70, Part II. 

40. So long. To such an extent. 

58. Durfey. Thomas D'Urfey, a witty writer of plays and 
poems in the reign of Charles II, with whom he was a favorite. 
Pope here refers to his best-known work, Pills to Purge 
Melancholy. 



Pages 89-92] ^.V ESSAY ON CRITICISM, PART III 183 

60. Garth. Sir Samuel Garth (1661-1719), an English physician 
and poet who wrote The Dispensary^ a poetical satire on apothe- 
caries and physicians who gave medicines gratuitously to the poor. 

64. The neighborhood of St. PauPs was, before the great fire, 
the headquarters of the booksellers. 

89. Maeonia, in Asia Minor, is believed by some to have been the 
birthplace of Homer. Aristotle derived many of his elements of 
criticism from Homer, the Mceonian star. 

106. Dionysius, a critic, rhetorician, and historian, born at 
Halicarnassus, 50 b.c, spent most of his life in Rome. 

108. Petronius. The voluptuary who had charge of the enter- 
tainments in the court of Nero. 

110. Quintilian. A famous Roman rhetorician and critic (42 ?- 

118? A.D.). 

116. Longinus. A Platonic philosopher of the third century, 
whose knowledge was so great that he was called a "living 
library" and a "walking museum," and hence Pope speaks of 
him as inspired by all the nine Muses. 

133. The Goths. The barbarian tribes that overran the Roman 
empire. 

134. Erasmus. A distinguished scholar who renounced his vows 
as a monk in the time of the Reformation. He did much to pro- 
mote the revival of learning. 

137. By Vandals Pope here means the monks. 

138. Leo X, who reigned as Pope from 1513 to 1521, was a 
scholar and patron of learning and art. He made his court the 
meeting-place for the scholars of the world. 

145. Raphael (1483-1520). He ranks as one of the greatest, if 
not the greatest, painters. He was employed by Leo X to paint 
the wonderful frescos of the Vatican. 

Vida. An Italian poet and contemporary of Raphael. He was 
born near Mantua, the birthplace of Vergil. 



184 NOTES [Pages 92-94 

155. Boileau. A French poet and critic of the seventeenth cen- 
tury who exerted a great influence upon French literature. In 
1674 he published his L''Art Poetique, which Pope has imitated in 
this poem. 

104-105. An allusion to the Duke of Buckingham's Essay on 
Poetry. 

106. Roscommon. The Earl of Roscommon was a poet of the 
Restoration and a translator of Horace. 

170, William Walsh. A poet, a man of fashion, and a friend 
of Pope's. See the Biography. 

EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 

Pope, in the Advertisement printed with the Satires of which 
this Epistle is the Prologue, calls this a " bill of complaint" which 
he had drawn up from time to time with no thought of publishing 
till he was attacked, not only in his writings, but in his person, 
morals, and family. 

Title. John Arbuthnot (1075-1736). A physician to Prince 
George of Denmark and Queen Anne, a scholar, and a Tory 
friend of Pope, Swift, and Gay. Of him Swift said : "He has 
more wit than we all have, and more humanity than wit." 

1. John Searl. Pope's body-servant for many years. 

8. Grot. The famous grotto passing under the highway and 
connecting the two parts of his gardens. 

13. The Mint was a place of refuge for insolvent debtors where 
they were suffered to afford each other illegal protection from the 
prosecution of their creditors. 

21. Twit'nam and Twitenham were names affected by Pope for 
his little estate of Twickenham. 

23. Arthur Moore. A contemporary politician. Pope had often 
ridiculed his son, James Moore-Smythe. 



Pages 95-97] EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 185 

38, Pope suffered almost constantly from headaches. 

40. Horace's advice. 

41. Drury Lane had been an aristocratic part of London, but its 
respectability had begun to decline in the seventeenth century. 

43. The " London season." 

49. "Pitholeon, a name taken from a foolish poet of Rhodes 
who pretended to much Greek'' (Pope). 

53. Edmund Curll, a piratical printer who was alternately 
Pope's tool and his enemy. See Pope, English 3Ien of Letters, 
Chap. VI. 

54. The London Journal was a Whig paper. Pope was little 
of a politician, but rather favored the Tories. 

56. Mr. Burford, the author of the tragedy, The Virgin Qneen, 
had displeased Pope by adopting his machinery of the Sylphs in 
his semi-heroical poem. The Assembly. ' 

60. In early editions this line read : — 

" Gibber and I are luckily no friends." 

Pope's drama, Three Hours after Marriage^ was a flat failure. 
Gibber ridiculed it ajid was therefore immortalized by Pope as the 
main figure in the Dunciad. 

62. Bernard Lintot published much of Pope's work. 

69-71. Midas was given asses' ears for preferring Pan's music to 
Apollo's. Some say his wife discovered his shame ; others, his 
barber. See Ghaucer's Wife of Bath''s Tale. 

86. Pope ridiculed Addison for using the expression " the 
mighty crack" in translating Horace, Ode III, v. 3 : — 

"Si fractus illabatur orbls 
Impavidum ferient ruinje." 

97. Colley Gibber. See note, v. 60. 

98. Henley, commonly called Orator Henley, on Sunday made 



186 NOTES [Pages 97-100 

addresses on religion and on Wednesdays on science before the 
butchers of Newport Market and Butclier Row. 

Arthur Moore. See v. 23. He frequently headed masonic 
processions, 

100. Ambrose Philips, through the patronage of Bishop Bolter, 
became primate of Ireland. 

101. Sappho. Probably Lady Mary Montague. 

117. Ammon's great son. Alexander the Great. 

118. It is surprising that he should mention his eyes among his 
infirmities. His eyes were fine and piercing. 

128. He wrote earlier than he could remember. 

135-141. All these were friends and admirers of Pope who 
advised him in his earliest works. 

140. Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, made this gesture when 
pleased. 

146, Authors of a secret and scandalous history. 

148. Pope here refers to his own Windsor Forest and other very 
early poems. 

149, Fanny. Lord Hervey, the Sporus of 305-333. 

151. Charles Gildon squandered his fortune and then lived by 
writing abusive pamphlets. 

153. John Dennis, though a forcible but unrefined critic, was by 
no means the dunce Pope makes him out. He was a free lance in 
letters and one of the favorite butts of Pope's satire. 

156. See note to v. 13. 

164. Bentley had issued an unworthy edition of Paradise Lost 
in 1732. 

Tibbald or Theobald had not only criticised Pope's edition of 
Shakespeare, but had prepared a better edition of his own. 

180. Ambrose Philips had translated a book of Persian tales. 

190. Nahum Tate was the poet laureate. 

193-214. This passage on Addison was published twelve' years 
before IhQ Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot was written. 



Pages 101-105] EPISTLE TO T)R. ARBUTHNOT 187 

230. Bufo. Probably Lord Halifax. 

236. In ridicule of the antiquarians who frequently exhibited 
dismembered statues. 

248. After a life of poverty, Dryden was accorded a splendid 
funeral through the munificence of several persons of quality. 

25G. John Gay's sweet temper endeared him to all his friends. 
The Duke and Duchess of Queensbury pensioned him most gener- 
ously, and he died (1732) by no means a pauper. 

280. See note to An Essay on Man, IV, v. 278. 

299. Pope had been accused of ridiculing, in the Essay on Taste.) 
the furniture and appointments of Canons, the seat of the Duke 
of Chandos, where he had been a guest. He denied the charge 
and was believed by the duke. 

305. Sporus. Lord Hervey, though apparently harmless, was 
one of those for whom Pope conceived a violent antipathy. The 
succeeding lines show this feeling. Cf. v. 149 and v. 363. 

343. Stood. For withstood. 

350. Though it was publicly disproved, it was nevertheless re- 
peated in libels that Pope received subscriptions to Shakespeare 
and set his name to Broome's verses. 

351. Certain trash, such as profane psalms, court poems, and other 
scandalous verses, were printed in Pope's name by Curll and others. 

353. A caricature of himself. 

354-355. The Duke of Buckingham, Lord Bolingbroke, Dr. 
Swift, Dr. Arbuthnot, Bishop Atterbury, Mr. Gay, his parents, and 
even his nurse were aspersed in papers printed by his enemies. 

355. Or live in exile. Atterbury was in exile. 

365. The so-called knights of the post stood about the sheriff's 
pillars, ready to swear anything for pay. 

371. In 1733 Pope wrote a prologue for a play, to be presented 
for the benefit of his one-time enemy, Dennis, who was then old, 
blind, and in distress. 



188 NOTES [Pages 105-107 

372. See note to Tibbald, v. 164. 

373. See notes to Gibber, v. GO, and Moore, v. 23. 

374. It was ten years after the scandals and libels against Pope 
were first published before he replied with the Dunciad. 

375. Welsted had declared in print that Pope had occasioned a 
lady's death, and gave her the name of a person Pope had never 
heard of. 

378. Budgell had abused him in print because he unjustly 
thought Pope had a hand in writing some criticisms that appeared 
in the Oruh Street Journal. 

391. Bestia, who here signifies the Duke of Marlborough, was 
a Roman proconsul who was bribed by Jugurtha into a dishonor- 
able peace. 

393. Dryden had married Lady Howard, Addison the Countess 
of Warwick, both of which ladies are said to have had very disagree- 
able tempers. 

397. A nonjuror, he would not take the oath of allegiance or 
supremacy, or the oath against the Pope. 

417. Dr. Arbuthnot had been the favorite physician of Queen 
Anne. 

ADDRESS TO THE GODDESS OF DULNESS 

Title. These lines, taken from Book IV of The Dunciad, give 
the reader a fair idea of the character and trend of the whole 
work. 

10. Winton. Winchester. 

17. The Samian Y. Used by Pythagoras as emblematic of the 
different roads of Vice and Virtue. 

19-28. Recalls the fact that Pope attended schools very little, 
but at the age of twelve outlined his own course of study, and in 
later years rejoiced that he had learned the sense and not the 
words of classic authors. 



PAGES 109-110] ADDRESS TO GODDESS OF DULNESS 189 

32. Hall. The House of Commons. Westminster Hall. 

33. Sir William Wyndham. An eminent English statesman. 

34. Lord Charles Talbot Pulteney, Earl of Bath, who deprived 
Sir Robert Walpole of his place. 

40. Dr. South had declared an epigram to be as difficult as an 
epic poem, while the critics had declared the latter to be "the 
masterpiece of man." 

42. James I delighted to teach his courtiers and favorites Latin, 
and Gondemar, the Spanish ambassador, often spoke false Latin 
in order to give the king the pleasure of correcting him and thus 
to secure the king's favor. 

60. Pope, under the name of Bentley, accounted for the brack- 
ets around this line by declaring them spurious and an interpola- 
tion of an editor, since this college had sent its representatives to 
the court of Dulness as early as any other. 

62. In 1703, at a meeting of the heads of the University of 
Oxford, Locke had been censured for his Essay on Human Under- 
standing, and the reading of it forbidden, 

64. Crousaz. A follower of Locke who put an abusive com- 
mentary on the Essay on Man. Burgersdyck. A follower of 
Aristotle. 

65. The Cam River runs between these colleges, which are par- 
ticularly known for their disputations. 

67. Bentley. A Cambridge critic ; a master of Trinity College. 

72. Walker. Vice-Master of Trinity, a constant friend of Bent- 
ley ; see note to v. 78. 

76. Aristarchus. A famous commentator whose name has fre- 
quently been used to signify a complete critic. 

78. Bentley had published an edition of Horace and Paradise 
Lost. The latter he had greatly injured by fancied improvements. 

84. Bentley had boasted at his restoration of the ^I^^olic di- 
gamma. 



190 NOTES [Pages 111-115 

86. Whether at the end of the first ode of Horace the reading 
would be, Me doctarum hederae or Te doctarani hederae. 

88. Whether Cicero be pronounced with C or K in Greek. 

89. Dr. Robert Friend. Master of Westminster School. 

90. Dr. Antony Alsop. An imitator of Horace. 
92. Manilius or Solinus. Inferior Latin authors. 
94. Suidas. A third-rate dictionary maker. 

97. Gellius. A critic. 

Stobaeus. One of the "bookmakers" such as are described in 
Irving's The Art of Bookmaking. 

103. Kuster, Burman, and Wasse. Contemporary German 
scholars and editors. 

111-112. Isaac Barrow. Master of Trinity. Francis Atterbury. 
Dean of Christ Church. Both eloquent preachers. 

136. An allusion to the saying of Aristotle that in every block 
of marble is a statue if only the superfluous parts be removed. 

THE TRIUMPH OF DULNESS 

Title. These are the concluding lines of 71ie Dunciad. 

23. Pope here assumes the prophetic strain and foretells what 
we feel and what we are to fear. He refers, he says, to certain 
most adored authors in Divinity, Philosophy, Physics, Metaphys- 
ics, etc., who are too good to be named here. 

ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY 

Title. This ode, written in 1708, at the request of Sir Richard 
Steele, was recast in 1730 into simpler form, in order that it might 
be set to music. The first four stanzas were considerably changed. 

1. Cf. Dryden's Alexander'' s Feast. 

Nine. The nine Muses. 

35. In 1730 the following lines were here added : — 



Pages 115-117] ODE ON ST. CECILIA^ S DAY 191 

" Amphion thus bade wild dissension cease, 
And softened mortals learned the arts of peace. 
Amphion taught contending kings 
From varying discords to create, 
The music of a well-tuned state ; 
Nor slack nor strain the tender strings, 
Those useful touches to impart 
That strike the subject's answering heart, 
And the soft silent harmony that springs 
From sacred union and consent of things." 

At the same time vv. 51-55 were made to read : — 

" Sad Orj)heus sought his consort lost; 
The adamantine gates were barred, 
And nought was seen and nought was heard 
Around the dreary coast ; " 

38. The Argo, in which Jason sailed to Colchis in search of the 
Golden Fleece. 

39. Orpheus. 

42. Apollonius conceives of Chiron coming down to the shore 
as the vessels passed his island and causing his wife to bring for- 
ward his little son Achilles, that the child might be seen by his 
father Peleus, who accompanied Jason. 

50. Phlegethon. A river of fire in Ta,rtarus. 

51. In some of the old writers Orpheus is a philosopher, a legis- 
lator, and a mystic. 

QQ. Sisyphus was doomed to roll a rock up a hill in Tartarus ; 
but each time, when he had nearly reached the summit, it invari- 
ably fell back to the plain. 

67. Ixion was bound to a wheel that revolved incessantly. 

80. Myrtle was sacred to Venus, the goddess of love. 

81. According to the myth, Orpheus visited Pluto's realm to 
reclaim his wife, Eurydice. Pluto, charmed by his music, prom- 



192 NOTES [Pages 117-120 

ised that she might follow Orpheus to the upper world, but only on 
condition that he should not look back at her until they reached 
the upper air. In his impatience he did glance back, and Euryd- 
ice was instantly seized and carried away, forever lost to the 
musician. 

85. Proserpine. The stolen daughter of Ceres and the wife of 
Pluto. 

91. Styx. The river of hate, in Tartarus. 

95. The Fates ; Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis. 

99. Hebrus. A river in Thrace. 

106. The Furies avenged crimes. 

111. Orpheus, having offended the women of Thrace by his neg- 
lect of them, was stoned to death during the Bacchanalian orgies, 
and his head and legs were thrown into the river Hebrus. 

134. Cf. Alexander''s Feast : — 

" He [Tlmotheus] raised a mortal to the skies, 
She [St. Cecilia] drew an angel down." 

EPITAPH ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL 

Title. Sir William Trumbull, a man of Oxford training, who 
had retired from public life to end his days on his estate near 
Windsor Forest, was attracted to Pope by finding they had a 
common taste for the classics. The old statesman and the deformed 
boy rode together often and had long discussions over poetry and 
letters. Sir William died in 1716. 

ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY 

Title. This poem is supposed to have been written in 1712 and 
published in 1717. There were many rumors in regard to the 
heroine of this piece, which was supposed to be founded on fact. 
It has since been proved that the only basis in truth lay in Pope's 



Pages 124-136] MESSIAH 193 

sympathy for an unhappy married woman whom he mentioned in 
a letter written in 1712. 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 

Title. Abelard and Eloisa, two persons who flourished in the 
twelfth century, were distinguished for their unfortunate passions. 
After many calamities they each retired to a religious house and 
gave their lives to religion. Many years later a letter of Abelard's 
to a friend fell into the hands of Eloisa, reawakened her passion, 
and occasioned letters which give a lively picture of the struggles 
of grace with nature, and virtue with passion. 

133. Abelard founded a monastery. 

212. Pope confesses that this line is borrowed from Crashaw. 

343. Abelard died in 1142, Eloisa in 1163. Their bodies are 
now interred in one tomb in the monastery of Paraclete, Paris, 
where a splendid monument commemorates their devotion. 

360. In 1715 Pope met Lady Mary Wortley Montague, with 
whom he formed a friendship. Two years later, after she had left 
England, he sent her this poem in a letter suggesting the appli- 
cability of the concluding lines to his own suffering under the 
existing circumstances of his separation from her. 

MESSIAH 

Written, according to Courthope, in 1712. 

ADVERTISEMENT 

" In reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretell 

the coming of Christ, and the felicities attending it, I could not 

but observe a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts 

and those in the Pollio of Vergil. This will not seem surprising, 

o 



194 NOTES [Pages 144-146 

when we reflect that the Eclogue was taken from a Sibylline 
prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that Vergil did not 
copy it line by line, but selected such ideas as best agreed with the 
nature of Pastoral Poetry, and disposed them in that manner which 
served most to beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same 
in this imitation of him, though without admitting any thing of my 
own ; since it was written with this particular view, that the reader, 
by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far the images 
and descriptions of the Prophet are superior to those of the Poet. 
But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall 
subjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Vergil, under the same 
disadvantage of a literal translation." 

ODE ON SOLITUDE 

Pope himself is authority for the statement that this poem was 
written when he was but twelve years old. It is the earliest of his 
remaining poems, though his friends mention having seen others 
of earlier dates. 

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL 

This ode was written at the request of Steele. In a letter to 
Steele on that occasion Pope says : " You have it, as Cowley calls 
it, just warm from the brain ; it came to me the first moment I 
waked this morning ; yet you'll see, it was not so absolutely in- 
spiration, but that I had in my head not only the verses of Hadrian 
but the fine fragment of Sappho." 

ON HIS GKOTTO AT TWICKENHAM 

Title. These lines were enclosed in a letter to Bolingbroke, 
September 3, 1740. 



Pages 146-149] WINDSOR, FOREST 195 

The grotto was composed of marbles, spars, gems, ores, and 
minerals ; and the improving and finishing of it is said to have been 
the delight of his declining years. 

10. Lord Bolingbroke. 

11. Sir William Wyndham, an excellent gentleman. 

UNIVERSAL PRAYER 

Title. This poem was written in 1738, to present to the public 
his belief, which had been variously misrepresented and misunder- 
stood. Though Warburton had striven with great ingenuity to 
prove that Pope's declaration of " What ever is is right" was not 
fatalism, he had not fully succeeded, and Pope therefore undertook 
to explain himself in this prayer. 

WINDSOR FOREST 

This poem, which was inscribed to the Right Honorable George 
Lord Lansdown, was written at two different times. The first two 
hundred and eighty-nine lines, which relate to the country, were 
composed in 1704 ; the remainder, with its celebration of the Peace 
of Utrecht, was added at the suggestion of Lord Lansdown. In 
this part Pope evidently aimed to do for the Peace of Utrecht what 
Addison had done for Marlborough's victory at Blenheim in 1704. 
Because of the character and date of the first part Pope ranked 
this among his Juvenile and Pastoral Poems. There was for 
many years a tradition that it was written under a certain beech 
tree, but the tree has since been destroyed. 

5. George Granville (Lord Lansdown) held several distinguished 
offices under Queen Anne and in 1711 was made a peer; but on 
the accession of George I was a suspected person and was confined 
in the Tower. He was a popular poet of his own day, a lover and 



196 NOTES [Pages 150-158 

patron of literature, a patriot, and in all respects worthy of being 
a poet's friend. 

45. Under the Norman kings laws were made by which the kill- 
ing of a deer, a boar, or a hare was punished by putting out the 
delinquent's eye. 

65. An allusion to the destruction made in the New Forest and 
the tyrannies exercised by William I. 

80. When the body of William the Conqueror was about to be 
lowered into the grave, an armorer in the company forbade the 
interment on the ground that the piece of land had been seized by 
William from his (the armorer's) father and never paid for. 
Prince Henry was obliged to pay the fellow for the burial-place 
before the interment could take place. 

81. Eichard, William's second son, was said to have been gored 
to death by a stag in New Forest. 

83. Rufus was accidentally slain in the New Forest by his favor- 
ite. Sir Walter Tyrrel. A stone now marks the spot where he fell. 

160. Diana. 

162. Queen Anne, who was fond of hunting. 

207. The river Loddon. 

211-216. Pope says that these lines were added after the first 
writing of the poem. 

236. Lord Lansdown. 

264. Cooper's Hill, near Egham and Runnymede, was the sub- 
ject of a poem by Sir John Denham. 

271. See note to v. 264. 

272. Abraham Cowley (1618-1667), a poet, popular in his own 
day, died on the edge of this forest. 

291. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, a writer of several son- 
nets, the scene of which was laid at Windsor, was beheaded by 
royal command in 1547. 

297. Geraldine. The daughter of the Earl of Kildare, and the 
beloved of Surrey, v. 291. 



Pages 158-161] WINDSOR FOREST 197 

298. Mira was the Countess of Newburgh, the lady to whom 
Granville sang. 

303. Edward III. 

305. David Bruce, king of Scotland, and John, king of France. 

Cressi. Cr^cy. 

307. Verrio. A Neapolitan artist, a decorator of stairways, 
ceilings, etc. 

311. Henry VI. 

314. Edward IV. 

316. Bellerium. Land's End ; so named from Belerus, a Cor- 
nish giant. 

319. Charles I lies buried in St. George's Chapel, Windsor. 

322-323. The plague and fire of London. 

336. Augusta. A Roman name for London. 

345. Vandalis. The Wandel. 

347. The Mole sometimes entirely disappears. 

355-368. These lines allude to the expected peace, for which con- 
ferences were opened in 1711, to the previous campaigns in Spain 
and Germany, to the war between Peter the Great and Charles IT, 
and to the early difficulties in the East Indian settlements. 

359. Homer calls the Nile "a river that falls from Jupiter or 
heaven." Its sources were long unknown. 

377. Fifty new churches had recently been erected in London. 

387. St. George's cross. 

398. A wish that London might be a free port. 



INDEX 



Abelard, 193. 

Addison, 188. 

^iieid, 167. 

iEolus, 170. 

Alexander the Great, 173, 177. 

Alexandrine, 181. 

Alsop, Dr. Antony, 190. 

Altars of Japan, 1()9. 

Ammon, 173. 

Amnion's great son, 180. 

Antediluvian, 182. 

Apis, 173. 

Apollo, 179. 

ApoUonius, 191. 

Appius, 182. 

Arbuthnot, 184, 187, 188. 

Argo, 191. 

Aristarchus, 189. 

Aristotle, 180, UK). 

Art, 179. 

Atalantis, 109. 

Atterbury, 180, 187. 

Augusta, 197. 

Aurelius, 178. 

Bacon, Lord, 178. 
Barrow, Isaac, liK). 
Basto, 109. 

Behold the child, 175. 
Belinda, 107. 
Bellerium, 197. 
Bentley, 180, 189. 
Bestia, 188. 
Bethel, Mr.. 177. 
Bills, 179. 



Birthnight bean, 107. 

Blackmore, Sir Richard, 182. 

Bleed, 178. 

Boileau, 184. 

Bolingbroke, 173, 178, 187, 194, 195. 

Bow, 170. 

Box, 108. 

Bubo, 187. 

Buckingham, 184, 187. 

Budgell, 188. 

Burgersdyck, 189. 

Burial of William the Conqueror, 

190. 
Burman, 190. 
But, 180. 



Cajsar Borgia, 173. 
Cam, 189. 
Camilla, 181. 
Card, 174. 
Carryl, 105, 107. 
Catiline, 173. 
Chain, 173. 
Charles I, 197. 
Charles XII of Sweden, 177. 
Chartres, F., 177. 
Chymist, 175. 
Gibber, 185, 188. 
Cicero, 190. 
Citron water, 170. 
Codille, 109. 
Commence, 182. 
Conceit, 180. 
Congreve, 168. 
Content, 180. 
lOS) 



200 



INDEX 



Cooper's Hill, 196. 
Correct old time, 174. 
Cowley, Abraham, 196. 
Cressi, 197. 
Crousaz, 189. 
Curious, 180. 
Curll, Edmund, 185, 187. 
Curtius, 174. 

David Bruce, 197. 
Decius, 174. 
Demoivre, 175. 
Denham, Sir John, 181. 
Dennis, 180, 186, 187. 
Diana, 196. 

Different schools, 179. 
Digamma, 189. 
Dig-by, 177. 
Dionysius, 183. 
Doubt, 176. 
Drops, 168. 
Drury Lane, 185. 
Dry den, 187, 188. 
Ducklane, 182. 
Durfey, 182. 

Each, 181. 

Earthquake, 173, 

Easy monarch, 182. 

Edward III, 197. 

Edward IV, 197. 

Elephant, 168. 

Eloisa, 192. 

Epigram, 189. 

Erasmus, 183. 

Eugene, Prince of Savoy, 178. 

Eurydice, 191. 

Eyes, 186. 

Fable, 179. 
Falkland, 177. 



Fanny, 186. 

Fates, 192. 

Favour 'd of man, 175. 

Fermor, Mrs. Arabella, 165. 

Fifty new churches, 197. 

Free port, 197. 

Friend, 178. 

Friend, Dr. Robert, 190, 

Fungoso, 180. 

Furies, 192. 

Galileo's eyes, 170. 

Game laws, 196, 

Garters, stars, and coronets, 168. 

Garth, 183, 

Gay, John, 187. 

Gellius, 190. 

Generation, 179. 

Geraldiue, 196. 

Gildon, Charles, 186. 

God within the mind, 174. 

Goths, 183. 

Granville, 195. 

Green, The circled, 167. 

Grot, 184. 

Grotto, 194. 

Hall, 189. 

Hampton Court, 168. 

Headaches, 185. 

Hebrus, 192. 

Henley, 185. 

Henry VI, 197, 

Henry, Vicomte of Turenne, 177. 

Hervey, Lord, 187. 

Homer's tripod, 170. 

Howard, 177. 

Iliad, 167. 
Indites, 179. 
Ixion, 168, 191. 



INDEX 



201 



James I, 189. 
John, 184. 

Knights of the post, 187. 
Kuster, 190. 

La Maueha's Knight, 180. 

Lansdawn, 195, li^Hi. 

Laws of Norman kings, 19(3. 

Lead, 170. 

Leo, 169. 

Leo X, 183. 

Libels, 187. 

Libyan Jove, 181. 

Lintot, Bernard, 185. 

Lioness, 173. 

Locke, 189. 

Loddon, 196. 

London Journal, 185. 

London season, 185. 

Longinus, 183. 

Maeonia, 183. 

Maevins, 179. 

Malignant dull delight, 180. 

Manilius, 190. 

Manillo, 168. 

Marcellus, 178. 

Marll)orough, 178. 

Marseilles, 177. 

Matadores, 168. 

Megrim, 169. 

Midas, 185. 

Might kiss . . . adore, 1(58. 

Mighty crack, 185. 

Mighty maze, 173. 

Milbourne, Rev. Luke, 182. 

Mint, 184. 

Mira, 197. 

Mirror, The clear, 168. 

Mole, 197. 



Montague, Lady Mary, 193. 

Moore, Arthur, 184, 186. 

Most, 179, 181. 

Mother, 177. 

Mountains piled on mountains, 177. 

Mrs., not Miss, 167. 

Myrtle, 191. 

Nature, 179. 
New Forest, 196. 
Nice, 180. 
Nile, 197. 
Nine, 190. 
Nisus, 169. 
Nonjuror, 188. 

Odyssey, 1(J7. 
Ombre, 168. 
Or live in exile, 187. 
Orpheus, 191, 192. 

Pam, 1(39. 

Paradise Lost, 167. 

Partridge, John, 170. 

Patches, 170. 

Peace, 197. 

Pegasus, 179. 

Petre, Lord, 165, 1(37. 

Petronius, 183. 

Philips, Ambrose, 186. 

Phlegethon, 191. 

Pierian, 180. 

Pillows, lace trimmed, 1(39. 

Pitholeon, 185. 

Plague, 197. 

Pope's school life, 188. 

Proserpine, 192. 

Prospects, 180. 

Quality, 181. 
Queen Anne, 196. 



202 



INDEX 



Quintilian, 183. 

Raphael, 183. 
Richard, 196. 
Ring, 168. 
Roscommon, 184. 
Rufus, 196. 

Sages, 177. 

St. George's cross, 197. 
St. John, 173. 
St. Paul's, 183. 
Samian Y, 188. 
Sappho, 186. 
School-divines, 181. 
Scotists, 181. 
Sense, 179. 
Sentences, 181. 
Seraph, 173. 
Sev'ral, 179. 
Shock, 168. 
Side box, 170. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 177. 
Single hair, 168. 
Sir Plume, 170. 
Sisyphus, 191. 
Socinus, 182. 
Solar walk, 173. 
Solinus, 190. 
So long, 182. 
Some,l81. 
Sort, 180. 
Spadillo, 168. . 
Sparks, 180. 
Sporus, 187. 
Stagirite, 180. 
Stobseus, 190. 
Stood, 187. 
Styx, 192. 
Such, 179. 



Suidas, 190. 
Surrey, 196. 

Talbot, Lord Charles, 189. 

Tate, Nahum, 186. 

Thalestris, 170. 

These, 181. 

Thine, O Rome, 180. 

Thomists, 182. 

Tibbald, 186, 188. 

Timotheus, 181. 

'Tis more to guide, 179. 

Titus, 177. 

Token, The silver, 167. 

Trumbull, 192. 

Twit'nam, 184. 

Tyrannies of William I, 196. 

Umbra, Lord, 178. 

Vandalis, 197. 

Vandals, 183. 

Vast French romances, 168. 

Vergil, 179. 

Verrio, 197. 

Vida, 183. 

Virgin Queen, 185. 

Vulgar, 181. 

Walker, 189. 
Waller, Edmund, 181. 
Walsh, William, 184. 
Wasse, 190. 
Welsted, 188. 
Winton, 188. 
Wit, 179, 182. 
Wits, 179. 
Wyndham, 189, 195. 

Zoilus, 182. 



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Homer's Odyssey (abridged). Done into English by S. H. Butcher 

and Andrew Lang. 
Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. (Illustrated.) Edited by 

Charles A. McMurry. 
Dickens's A Christmas Carol and the Cricket on the Hearth. Edited by 

James M. Sawin. 
Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. Edited by L. E. Wolfe. 
Carlyle's Heroes and Hero Worship. 
Church's The Story of the Iliad. 
Church's The Story of the Odyssey. 

Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables. Edited by Clyde Furst. 
Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum and other Poems. Edited by Justus 

Collins Castleman. 
Andersen's Danish Fairy Legends and Tales. (Translated.) Edited 

by Sarah C. Brooks. 
Longfellow's Hiawatha. Edited by Elizabeth J. Flfjviing. 
Lamb's The Essays of Elia. Edited by Helen J. Robins. 
Blackmore's Lorna Doone. Edited by Albert L. Barbour. 
Goldsmith's The Deserted Village and other Poems. Edited by Robert 

N. Whiteford, Ph.D. 
Shakespeare's Henry V. Edited by Ralph Hartt Bowles. 
Pope's The Rape of the Lock and other Poems. Edited by Elizabeth 

M. King. 

THE MACMH^LAN COMPANY 

64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



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